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THE    SICK  AND    SUFFERING 


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THE  BENSON  LIBRARY  OF  HYMNOLOGY 

Endowed  by  the  Reverend 

Louis  Fitzgerald  Benson,  d.d. 


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LIBRARY  OF  THE  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


PRINCETON,   NEW  JERSEY 


zlw  a  faa^i. 


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JU±, 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


http://archive.org/details/sursuOOtile 


g>ursum  Cortia* 

HYMNS 

FOR    THE     SICK    AND     SUFFERING. 


COMPILED   BY  THE  EDITOR  OF 
"quiet  hours,"   "sunshine  in  the  soul,"   etc. 


"  Abide  with  me  !  fast  falls  the  eventide ; 
The  darkness  deepens ;  Lord,  with  me  abide ! 
When  other  helpers  fail,  and  comforts  flee, 
Help  of  the  helpless,  oh,  abide  with  me." 

Henry  F.  Lyte. 


BOSTON: 
ROBERTS   BROTHERS. 

1877. 


Copyright,   1S77, 
By  Roberts  Brothers. 


Cambridge  : 
Press  of  John   Wilson  6°  Son. 


preface. 


'TRHIS  volume  is  intended  for  all  who  need  comfort 
and  strength,  and  especially  for  invalids.  I  have 
thought  it  best  to  include  some  of  the  familiar  and 
cheri'shed  old  hymns,  as  well  as  a  large  number  which 
are  not  in  the  common  collections.  In  many  cases,  I 
have  given  a  portion  of  the  hymn  instead  of  the  whole. 
As  it  was  desirable  not  to  make  the  book  too  heavy  for 
an  invalid  to  handle,  and  at  the  same  time  to  have  the 
type  as  large  as  practicable,  I  preferred  to  give  only 
the  verses  which  would  be  most  suitable  for  the  special 
purpose  of  the  book. 

These  songs  of  the  soul  range  from  the  Greek  Church 
of  the  eighth  century  to  the  present  day,  including  the 
devout  lyrics  of  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centu- 
ries from  "Lyra  Germanica,"  the  quaint  and  earnest 
words  of  George  Herbert,  the  glowing  utterances  of 
Charles  Weslev,  Madame  Guvon,  and  Tersteegen,  and 


vi  Preface 

the  fervent  and  beautiful  poems  of  men  and  women 
who  still  live  among  us. 

It  gives  me  pleasure  to  express  my  thanks  to  the 
authors  who  have  kindly  allowed  me  to  print  their 
poems  here ;  and  also  to  the  publishers  —  Messrs.  J.  R. 
Osgood  &  Co.,  E.  P.  Dutton  &  Co.,  Hurd  &  Hough- 
ton, D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  and  Roberts  Brothers  — 
for  their  permission  to  use  copyrighted  poems. 

M.  W.  T. 

September,  1877. 


Contents. 


Pagb 

A  Chant     i 

Out  of  the  Depths 5 

Aspiration 33 

Morning  and  Evening 67 

Trust  and  Peace 77 

Submission  in  Sorrow 144 

Sickness 204 

The  Last  Hour 265 


"Benedicts  qui  venit  hi  nomine  Domini? 


WHO  is  the  Angel  that  cometh? 
Life- 
Let  us  not  question  what  he  brings, 

Peace  or  Strife  ; 
Under  the  shade  of  his  mighty  wings, 
One  by  one, 
Are  his  secrets  told ; 
One  by  one, 
Lit  by  the  rays  of  each  morning  sun, 
Shall  a  new  flower  its  petals  unfold, 
With  the  mystery  hid  in  its  heart  of  gold. 
We  will  arise  and  go  forth  to  greet  him, 
Singing  gladly,  with  one  accord,  — 
"  Blessed  is  he  that  cometh 

In  the  name  of  the  Lord  !  " 

ii. 

Who  is  the  Angel  that  cometh  ? 

Joy! 
Look  at  his  glittering  rainbow  wings,  — 

No  alloy 


Sttrsum  ©ortra* 

Lies  in  the  radiant  gifts  he  brings ; 
Tender  and  sweet, 
He  is  come  to-day, 

Tender  and  sweet : 
While  chains  of  love  on  his  silver  feet 
Will  hold  him  in  lingering  fond  delay. 
But  greet  him  quickly,  he  will  not  stay, 
Soon  he  will  leave  us  ;  but  though  for  others 
All  his  brightest  treasures  are  stored,  — 
"  Blessed  is  he  that  cometh 

In  the  name  of  the  Lord  !  " 

in. 

Who  is  the  Angel  that  cometh  ? 

Pain! 
Let  us  arise  and  go  forth  to  greet  him ; 

Not  in  vain 

Is  the  summons  come  for  us  to  meet  him ; 

He  will  stay, 

And  darken  our  sun ; 

He  will  stay 

A  desolate  night,  a  weary  day. 

Since  in  that  shadow  our  work  is  done, 
And  in  that  shadow  our  crowns  are  won, 
Let  us  say  still,  while  his  bitter  chalice 
Slowly  into  our  hearts  is  poured,  — 
"  Blessed  is  he  that  cometh 

In  the  name  of  the  Lord  !  " 


&  <£ijaut 


IV. 

Who  is  the  Angel  that  cometh  ? 

Death  ! 
But  do  not  shudder  and  do  not  fear; 

Hold  your  breath, 
For  a  kingly  presence  is  drawing  near. 
Cold  and  bright 
Is  his  flashing  steel, 
Cold  and  bright 
The  smile  that  comes  like  a  starry  light 
To  calm  the  terror  and  grief  we  feel ; 
He  comes  to  help  and  to  save  and  heal : 
Then  let  us,  baring  our  hearts  and  kneeling, 
Sing,  while  we  wait  this  Angel's  sword,  — 
"  Blessed  is  he  that  cometh 

In  the  name  of  the  Lord  !  " 

Adelaide  A.  Procter. 


®\xt  of  tl)t  &zpt])$. 


A   PRAYER    IN   MENTAL   CONFLICT. 

MY  God  !  lo,  here  before  Thy  face 
I  cast  me  in  the  dust ; 
Where  is  the  hope  of  happier  days  ? 

Where  is  my  wonted  trust? 
Where  are  the  sunny  hours  I  had 

Ere  of  Thy  light  bereft  ? 
Vanished  is  all  that  made  me  glad, 
My  pain  alone  is  left. 

I  shrink  with  fear  and  sore  alarm 

When  threatening  ills  I  see, 
As  in  mine  hour  of  need  Thine  arm 

No  more  could  shelter  me  ; 
As  though  Thou  couldst  not  see  the  grief 

That  makes  my  courage  quail, 
As  though  Thou  wouldst  not  send  relief 

When  human  helpers  fail. 


0  Father,  compass  me  about 
With  love,  for  I  am  weak ; 

Forgive,  forgive  my  sinful  doubt, 

Thy  pitying  glance  I  seek ; 
For  torn  and  anguished  is  my  heart, 

Thou  seest  it,  my  God ; 
Oh !  soothe  my  conscience'  bitter  smart, 

Lift  off  my  sorrows'  load. 

1  know  that  I  am  in  Thy  hands, 
Whose  thoughts  are  peace  toward  me ; 

That  ever  sure  Thy  counsel  stands,  — 

Could  I  but  build  on  Thee ! 
Though  mountains  crumble  into  dust, 

Thy  covenant  standeth  fast : 
Who  follows  Thee  in  pious  trust 

Shall  reach  the  goal  at  last. 

Take  courage,  then,  my  soul,  nor  steep 
,     Thy  days  and  nights  in  tears, 
Soon  shalt  thou  cease  to  mourn  and  weep, 

Though  dark  are  now  thy  fears. 
He  comes,  He  comes,  the  Strong  to  save ; 

He  comes,  nor  tarries  more ; 
His  light  is  breaking  o'er  the  wave, 

The  clouds  and  storms  are  o'er. 

Drewes,  1797. 
Tr.  by  Catharine  Winkworth. 


©ut  of  ti)t  Beptfja* 


A   CRY   FOR   HELP. 

THOU,  infinite  in  love  ! 
Guide  this  bewildered  mind, 
Which,  like  the  trembling  dove, 

No  resting-place  can  find 
On  the  wild  waters  :  God  of  light, 
Through  the  thick  darkness  lead  me  right ! 

Bid  the  fierce  conflict  cease, 

And  fear  and  anguish  fly ; 
Let  there  again  be  peace, 

As  in  the  days  gone  by ; 
In  Jesus'  name,  I  cry  to  Thee, 
Remembering  Gethsemane ! 

Fain  would  earth's  true  and  dear 

Save  me  in  this  dark  hour ; 
And  art  not  Thou  more  near  ? 

Art  Thou  not  love  and  power  ? 
Vain  is  the  help  of  man,  —  but  Thou 
Canst  send  deliverance  even  now. 

Though,  through  the  future's  shade, 

Pale  phantoms  I  descry, 
Let  me  not  shrink  dismayed, 

But  ever  feel  Thee  nigh  : 
There  may  be  grief  and  pain  and  care, 
But,  O  my  Father,  Thou  art  there  ! 


Sarah  E.  Milks. 


<Sunmm  Ctorira* 


PRAYER   FOR   STRENGTH. 

FATHER,  before  Thy  footstool  kneeling, 
Once  more  my  heart  goes  up  to  Thee, 
For  aid,  for  strength,  to  Thee  appealing, 
Thou  who  alone  canst  succor  me. 

Hear  me  !  for  heart  and  flesh  are  failing, 

My  spirit  yielding  in  the  strife ; 
And  anguish,  wild  as  unavailing, 

Sweeps  in  a  flood  across  my  life. 

Help  me  to  stem  the  tide  of  sorrow ; 

Help  me  to  bear  Thy  chastening  rod ; 
Give  me  endurance  ;  let  me  borrow 

Strength  from  Thy  promise,  O  my  God  ! 

Not  mine  the  grief  which  words  may  lighten ; 

Not  mine  the  tears  of  common  woe : 
The  pang  with  which  my  heart-strings  tighten, 

Only  the  All-seeing  One  may  know. 

And  I  am  weak ;  my  feeble  spirit 

Shrinks  from  life's  task  in  wild  dismay : 

Yet  not  that  Thou  that  task  wouldst  spare  it, 
My  Father,  do  I  dare  to  pray. 


©Ut  Of  tf)C  Btptp-  9 

Into  my  soul  Thy  might  infusing, 

Strengthening  my  spirit  by  Thine  own, 

Help  me,  all  other  aid  refusing, 
To  cling  to  Thee,  and  Thee  alone. 

And  oh  !  in  my  exceeding  weakness, 

Make  Thy  strength  perfect ;  Thou  art  strong : 

Aid  me  to  do  Thy  will  with  meekness,  — 
Thou,  to  whom  all  my  powers  belong. 

Oh  !  let  me  feel  that  Thou  art  near  me  ; 

Close  to  Thy  side,  I  shall  not  fear : 
Hear  me,  O  Strength  of  Israel,  hear  me ; 

Sustain  and  aid !  in  mercy  hear. 

Anonymous. 


UNCERTAINTY. 

FATHER,  hear  ! 

The  way  is  dark,  and  I  would  fain  discern 
What  steps  to  take,  into  which  path  to  turn  ; 
Oh  !  make  it  clear. 


o 


My  faith  is  weak  ; 
I  long  to  hear  Thee  say,  "  This  is  the  way  ; 
Walk  in  it,  fainting  soul ;  I'll  be  thy  stay  ; " 

Speak,  Lord,  oh,  speak  ! 


io  cSunmm  ©orTra* 

Let  Thy  strong  arm 
Reach  through  the  gloom  for  me  to  lean  upon, 
And  with  a  willing  heart  I'll  journey  on, 

And  fear  no  harm. 

I  wait  for  Thee 
As  those  who,  watching,  wait  the  coming  dawn  , 
Pant,  as  for  water  pants  the  thirsty  fawn ; 

Oh  !  come  to  me. 

It  is  Thy  child, 
Who  sits  in  dim  uncertainty  and  doubt, 
Waiting  and  longing  till  the  light  shine  out 

Upon  the  wild. 

My  Father,  see 
I  trust  the  faithfulness  displayed  of  old, 
I  trust  the  love  that  never  can  grow  cold,  — 

I  trust  in  Thee. 

And  Thou  wilt  guide ; 
For  Thou  hast  promised  never  to  forsake 
The  soul,  that  Thee  its  confidence  doth  make ; 

I've  none  beside. 

Thou  knowest  me  ; 
Thou  knowest  how  I  now  in  darkness  grope ; 
And  oh  !  Thou  knowest  that  my  only  hope 

Is  found  in  Thee, 

Christian  Intelligencer. 


<©ut  ot  tije  mtptyn.  ii 


THE    HOUR    OF   DARKNESS. 

T  TOW  long,  O  Lord,  how  long 

-*-  -*-      Shall  on  my  spirit  rest 

This  weight  of  darkness  and  distress  ? 

How  long  unto  my  burning  lips  be  pressed 
This  overflowing  cup  of  bitterness  ? 
O  God,  my  God  !  only  Thine  arm  hath  power 
To  bear  me  through  the  anguish  of  this  hour. 

How  long,  O  Lord,  how  long ! 

Many  to  rest  have  gone  ; 
The  lovely  and  beloved  are  with  Thee 

In  peace  and  glory,— while  I  faint  alone 
Beneath  this  burden  of  mortality. 
Yet  not  alone,  —  art  Thou  not  near  ?     I  bend, 
Praying  for  strength  enduring  to  the  end. 

How  long,  O  Lord,  how  long ! 

I  bow  me  to  Thy  will, 
Believing  in  tender  love  Thou  dost  chastise,  — 

Say  to  my  heart's  wild  throbbings,  Peace  !  be  still ! 
Father,  to  Thee,  to  Thee  I  lift  mine  eyes  ! 
Is  not  Thy  smile  to  patient  sufferance  given, 
Gilding  earth's  darkness  with  a  gleam  of  heaven  ? 

How  long,  O  Lord,  how  long! 
A  soft  still  voice  I  hear, 


12  cSunmm  i&orfca* 

Speaking  to  my  worn  spirit  words  of  life,  — 

"  O  thou  of  little  faith,  how  canst  thou  fear  ? 
I,  even  I,  am  with  thee  through  the  strife. 
Weeping  and  grief  endure  but  for  a  night ; 
The  morning  breaketh  in  celestial  light." 

Sarah  E.  Miles. 


BENEATH    THINE    HAMMER. 

BENEATH  Thine  hammer,  Lord,  I  lie 
With  contrite  anguish  prone ; 
Oh,  mould  me  till  to  self  I  die, 
And  live  to  Thee  alone ! 

With  frequent  disappointments  sore, 

And  many  a  bitter  pain, 
Thou  laborest  at  my  being's  core 

Till  I  be  formed  again. 

Smite,  Lord  !  Thine  hammer's  needful  wound 

My  baffled  hopes  confess  ; 
Thine  anvil  is  the  sense  profound 

Of  mine  own  nothingness. 

Smite,  till  from  all  its  idols  free, 

And  filled  with  love  divine, 
My  heart  shall  know  no  good  but  Thee, 

And  have  no  will  but  Thine. 

Frederic  H.   Hedge. 


©ut  of  ti)t  Septp-  13 


MY   GOD,    REMEMBER   ME! 

OH,  from  these  visions  dark  and  drear, 
Kind  Father,  set  me  free  ! 
I  struggle  yet  with  darkness  here,  — 
My  God,  remember  me  ! 

Some  cheering  ray  of  hope  impart, 

Sweet  influence  from  Thee ; 
And  raise  this  feeble,  drooping  heart,  — 

My  God,  remember  me ! 

For  the  inheritance  in  light, 

On  trembling  wings  I  flee, 
With  sins  and  doubts  and  fears  I  fight,  — 

My  God,  remember  me  ! 


Bartrum. 


I  LAY  my  head  upon  Thy  Infinite  heart, 
I  hide  beneath  the  shelter  of  Thy  wing ; 
Pursued,  and  tempted,  helpless,  I  must  cling 
To  Thee,  my  Father :  bid  me  not  depart, 
For  sin  and  death  pursue,  and  life  is  where  Thou  art ! 

Anonymous. 


14  Sursum  ©ortra* 

UNDER  A   HEAVY   PRIVATE   CROSS   OR 
BEREAVEMENT. 

O  FAITHFUL  God  !  O  pitying  Heart, 
Whose  goodness  hath  no  end ; 
I  know  this  cross  with  all  its  smart 

Thy  hand  alone  doth  send  ! 
Yes,  Lord,  I  know  it  is  Thy  love, 
Not  wrath  or  hatred  bids  me  prove 
The  load  'neath  which  I  bend. 

Yet,  Father,  each  fresh  aching  heart 

Will  question  in  its  woe, 
If  Thou  canst  send  such  bitter  smart, 

And  yet  no  anger  know  ? 
How  long  the  hours  beneath  the  cross ! 
How  hard  to  learn  that  love  and  loss 

From  one  sole  Fountain  flow ! 

But  what  I  cannot,  Thou  true  Good, 

Oh,  work  Thyself  in  me ; 
Nor  ever  let  my  trials'  flood 

O'erwhelm  my  faith  in  Thee  ; 
Keep  me  from  every  murmur,  Lord, 
And  make  me  steadfast  in  Thy  word, 

My  tower  of  refuge  be ! 

If  I  am  weak,  Thy  tender  care 
Help  me  to  face  each  ill ! 


(But  of  tfje  BtptyH.  15 

With  ceaseless  cries  and  tears  and  prayer 

The  long  sad  hours  I'll  fill; 
The  heart  that  yet  can  hope  and  trust, 
And  cry  to  Thee,  though  from  the  dust, 

Is  all  unconquered  still ! 

Paul  Gerhardt.     1606-1676. 
Tr.  by  Catharine  Winkworth. 


THE    PENITENT. 

OMY  God,  my  Father !  hear, 
And  help  me  to  believe ; 
Weak  and  weary  I  draw  near, 
Thy  child,  O  God !  receive. 
I  so  oft  have  gone  astray; 
To  the  perfect  Guide  I  flee ; 
Thou  wilt  turn  me  not  away, 
Thy  love  is  pledged  to  me ! 

I  no  other  claim  can  bring 

But  that  I  need  Thine  aid  ; 
Simply  to  Thy  love  I  cling, 

On  that  my  hope  is  stayed. 
Thou  canst  save  me,  and  Thou  wilt ; 
From  my  bondage  set  me  free, 
Cleanse  me  from  sin's  power  and  guilt  ; 

Thy  strength  is  pledged  to  me ! 

Hymns  of  the  Spirit. 


16  <Sunmm  <&orTrau 


CAST  THY  BURDEN  UPON  THE  LORD. 

THOU  !  who  art  touched  with  feeling  of  our  woes, 
Let  me  on  Thee  my  heavy  burden  cast ! 
My  aching,  anguished  heart  on  Thee  repose, 

Leaving  with  Thee  the  sad,  mysterious  past; 
Let  me  submissive  bow,  and  kiss  the  rod  ; 
Let  me  "  be  still,  and  know  that  Thou  art  God." 

Why  should  my  harassed,  agitated  mind 
Go  round  and  round  this  terrible  event  ? 

Striving  in  vain  some  brighter  side  to  find, 

Some  cause  why  all  this  anguish  has  been  sent  ? 

Do  I  indeed  that  sacred  truth  believe, 

Thou  dost  not  willingly  afflict  and  grieve  ? 

My  lovely  gourd  is  withered  in  an  hour ! 

I  droop,  I  faint  beneath  the  scorching  sun  ; 
My  Shepherd,  lead  me  to  some  sheltering  bower, 

There,  where  Thy  little  flock  "  lie  down  at  noon  : " 
Though  of  my  dearest  earthly  joy  bereft, 
Thou  art  my  portion  still,  —  Thou,  Thou,  my  God  art 
left. 

Charlotte  Elliott. 


<©ut  of  tijr  Beptijs*  17 


PRAYER   IN    GRIEF. 

'  I  ^0  Thee,  my  God,  whose  presence  fills 

■*■       The  earth,  and  seas,  and  skies, 
To  Thee,  whose  name,  whose  heart  is  love, 
With  all  my  powers  I  rise. 

Troubles  in  long  succession  roll ; 

Wave  rushes  upon  wave  ; 
Pity,  oh,  pity  my  distress  ! 

Thy  child,  Thy  suppliant,  save  ! 

Oh,  bid  the  roaring  tempest  cease ; 

Or  give  me  strength  to  bear 
Whate'er  Thy  holy  will  appoints, 

And  save  me  from  despair ! 

To  Thee,  my  God,  alone  I  look, 

On  Thee  alone  confide ; 
Thou  never  hast  deceived  the  soul 

That  on  Thy  grace  relied. 

Though  oft  Thy  ways  are  wrapped  in  clouds 

Mysterious  and  unknown, 
Truth,  righteousness,  and  mercy  stand 

The  pillars  of  Thy  throne. 

Thomas  Gibbons.     1784. 


1 8  Sunntm  ©ortra* 


O   THOU,    FROM    WHOM   ALL    GOODNESS 
FLOWS. 

OTHOU,  from  whom  all  goodness  flows, 
I  lift  my  soul  to  Thee ; 
In  all  my  sorrows,  conflicts,  woes, 
Dear  Lord,  remember  me  ! 

When  on  my  aching,  burdened  heart 

My  sins  lie  heavily, 
My  pardon  speak,  new  peace  impart, 

In  love  remember  me  ! 

Temptations  sore  obstruct  my  way, 

And  ills  I  cannot  flee  : 
Oh,  give  me  strength,  Lord,  as  my  day, 

For  good  remember  me  ! 

Distressed  in  pain,  disease,  and  grief, 

This  feeble  body  see  ! 
Grant  patience,  rest,  and  kind  relief, 

Hear,  and  remember  me  ! 

When  in  the  solemn  hour  of  death, 

I  lift  my  soul  to  Thee, 
Be  this  the  prayer  of  my  last  breath,  — 

Good  Lord,  remember  me ! 

Thomas  Hawkis.    1792. 


©ut  of  tfje  Bcpfyn.  19 


LAMENTATION    OF    A    SINNER. 

OLORD,  turn  not  Thy  face  away 
From  him  that  lies  prostrate, 
Lamenting  sore  his  sinful  life, 
Before  Thy  mercy-gate,  — 

Which  Thou  dost  open  wide  to  those 

Who  do  lament  their  sin; 
Oh,  shut  it  not  against  me,  Lord, 

But  let  me  enter  in. 

I  need  not  to  confess  my  life ; 

For  surely  Thou  canst  tell 
What  I  have  been,  and  what  I  am 

Thou  knowest  very  well. 

Wherefore,  to  beg  and  to  entreat, 
With  tears  I  come  to  Thee, 

As  children  that  have  done  amiss 
Fall  at  their  father's  knee. 

O  Lord,  I  need  not  to  repeat 
What  I  do  beg  and  crave  ; 

For  Thou  dost  know  before  I  ask 
The  thing  that  I  would  have. 


20  Sursum  ©ottra. 

Mercy,  good  Lord,  mercy  I  ask, 
This  is  the  total  sum  : 

For  mercy,  Lord,  is  all  my  suit ; 
Oh,  let  Thy  mercy  come  ! 


John  Mardley.     1562. 


THE   FORGIVENESS    OF   GOD. 

O  FATHER  !  I  have  sinned.     I  have  done 
The  thing  I  thought  I  never  more  should  do. 
My  days  were  set  before  me,  light  all  through, 
But  I  have  made  them  dark,  —  alas  !  too  true,  — 
And  drawn  dense  clouds  between  me  and  my  Sun. 

Forgive  me  not,  for  grievous  is  my  sin ; 
Yea,  very  deep  and  dark.     Alas,  I  see 
Such  blackness  in  it,  that  I  may  not  be 
Forgiven  of  myself,  —  how,  then,  of  Thee?  — 
Vile,  vile  without ;  black,  utter  black  within  ! 

If  my  shut  eyes  should  dare  their  lids  to  part, 
I  know  how  they  must  quail  beneath  the  blaze 
Of  Thy  Love's  greatness.     No,  I  dare  not  raise 
One  prayer,  to  look  aloft,  lest  it  should  gaze 
On  such  forgiveness  as  would  break  my  heart ! 

Henry  Septimus  Sutton.     1854. 


<©ut  of  tije  EJtptfjs-  21 


PSALM    CXXX. 

FROM  the  depths  of  grief  and  fear, 
O  Lord  !  to  Thee  my  soul  repairs  : 
From  Thy  heaven  bow  down  Thine  ear; 
Let  Thy  mercy  meet  my  prayers. 
Oh,  if  Thou  mark'st 

What's  done  amiss, 
What  soul  so  pure 
Can  see  Thy  bliss  ? 

But  with  Thee  sweet  mercy  stands, 

Sealing  pardons,  working  fear  : 
Wait  my  soul,  wait  on  His  hands  ; 
Wait  mine  eye,  oh,  wait  mine  ear ! 
If  He  His  eye 

Or  tongue  affords, 
Watch  all  His  looks, 
Catch  all  His  words. 

As  a  watchman  waits  for  day, 

And  looks  for  light,  and  looks  again  ; 
When  the  night  grows  old  and  gray, 
To  be  relieved  he  calls  amain  \ 
So  look,  so  wait, 

So  long  mine  eyes, 
To  see  my  Lord, 
My  Sun  arise. 

Phinsas  Fi.ktcher.     15S4-1650. 


22  <Sunmm  Ctortra* 


LEVAVI    OCULOS. 

IN  trouble  for  my  sin,  I  cried  to  God,  — 
To  the  Great  God  who  dwelleth  in  the  deeps. 
The  deeps  return  not  any  voice  or  sign. 

But  with  my  soul  I  know  Thee,  O  Great  God ; 
The  soul  Thou  givest  knoweth  Thee,  Great  God ; 
And  with  my  soul  I  sorrow  for  my  sin ; 

Full  sure  I  am  there  is  no  joy  in  sin  ; 
Joy-scented  peace  is  trampled  under  foot, 
Like  a  white  growing  blossom  into  mud. 

Sin  is  established  subtly  in  the  heart 

As  a  disease ;  like  a  magician  foul 

Ruleth  the  better  thoughts  against  their  will. 

Only  the  rays  of  God  can  cure  the  heart, 
Purge  it  of  evil :  there's  no  other  way 
Except  to  turn  with  the  whole  heart  to  God. 

In  heavenly  sunlight  live  no  shades  of  fear  ; 
The  soul  there,  busy  or  at  rest,  hath  peace ; 
And  music  floweth  from  the  various  world. 

The  Lord  is  great  and  good,  and  is  our  God. 
There  needeth  not  a  word  but  only  these  ; 
Our  God  is  good,  our  God  is  great.     'Tis  well ! 


(But  of  tije  23epti)8*  23 

All  things  are  ever  God's  ;  the  shows  of  things 
Are  of  men's  fantasy,  and  warped  with  sin  • 
God,  and  the  things  of  God,  immutable. 

O  great  good  God,  my  prayer  is  to  neglect 

The  shows  of  fantasy,  and  turn  myself 

To  Thy  unfenced,  unmeasured  warmth  and  light ! 

Then  were  all  shows  of  things  a  part  of  truth  : 
Then  were  my  soul,  if  busy  or  at  rest, 
Residing  in  the  house  of  perfect  peace  ! 

William  Allingham. 


PSALM    LVII. 

OTHOU  from  whom  all  mercy  springs, 
Compassionate  my  sufferings, 
And  pity  me, 
That  trust  in  Thee ! 
Oh,  shelter  with  Thy  shady  wings, 
Until  these  stormes  of  woe 
Cleare  up,  or  overblow. 

George  Sandys.     1577-1643. 


24  Sursttm  <&ortra* 


FATHER,    I    HAVE    SINNED. 

LOVE  for  all !  and  can  it  be  ? 
Can  I  hope  it  is  for  me  ? 
I,  who  strayed  so  long  ago, 
Strayed  so  far,  and  fell  so  low  ? 

I,  the  disobedient  child, 
Wayward,  passionate,  and  wild ; 
I,  who  left  my  Father's  home 
In  forbidden  ways  to  roam ! 

I,  who  spurned  His  loving  hold ; 
I,  who  would  not  be  controlled ; 
I,  who  would  not  hear  His  call ; 
I,  the  wilful  prodigal. 

To  my  Father  can  I  go  ?  — 
At  His  feet  myself  I'll  throw : 
In  His  house  there  yet  may  be 
Place,  a  servant's  place,  for  me. 

See,  my  Father  waiting  stands  ; 
See,  He  reaches  out  His  hands : 
God  is  love !  I  know,  I  see, 
There  is  love  for  me,  —  even  me  ! 

Samuel  Longfellow. 


(But  of  ti)t  Deptijs*  25 


GOD'S    SURE    HELP    IN    SORROW. 

LEAVE  all -to  God, 
Forsaken  one,  and  stay  thy  tears  ; 
For  the  Highest  knows  thy  pain, 
Sees  thy  sufferings  and  thy  fears  ; 

Thou  shalt  not  wait  His  help  in  vain  ; 
Leave  all  to  God. 

Be  still  and  trust ! 
For  His  strokes  are  strokes  of  love, 

Thou  must  for  thy  profit  bear ; 
He  thy  filial  fear  would  move, 
Trust  thy  Father's  loving  care, 
Be  still  and  trust ! 

Know,  God  is  near ! 
Though  thou  think  Him  far  away, 

Though  His  mercy  long  have  slept, 
He  will  come  and  not  delay, 

When  His  child  enough  hath  wept, 
For  God  is  near ! 

Oh,  teach  Him  not 
When  and  how  to  hear  thy  prayers  \ 

Never  cloth  our  God  forget ; 
He  the  cross  who  longest  bears 
Finds  his  sorrows'  bounds  are  set ; 
Then  teach  Him  not. 


26  <Sttnmm  <£orTra* 

If  thou  love  Him, 
Walking  truly  in  His  ways, 

Then  no  trouble,  cross,  or  death 
E'er  shall  silence  faith  and  praise ; 
All  things  serve  thee  here  beneath, 
If  thou  love  God. 

Anton  Ulrich,  Duke  of  Brunswick.     1667. 
Tr.  by  Catharine  Winkworth. 

DEAR   REFUGE   OF    MY   WEARY   SOUL. 

DEAR  refuge  of  my  weary  soul, 
On  Thee,  when  sorrows  rise,  — 
On  Thee,  when  waves  of  trouble  roll, 
My  fainting  hope  relies. 

To  Thee  I  tell  each  rising  grief, 

For  Thou  alone  canst  heal ; 
Thy  word  can  bring  a  sweet  relief 

For  every  pain  I  feel. 

But  oh  !  when  gloomy  doubts  prevail, 

I  fear  to  call  Thee  mine ; 
The  springs  of  comfort  seem  to  fail, 

And  all  my  hopes  decline. 

Yet,  gracious  God,  where  shall  I  flee  ? 

Thou  art  my  only  trust ; 
And  still  my  soul  would  cleave  to  Thee, 

Though  prostrate  in  the  dust. 

Anne  Steele.      1716-1778. 


<®ut  of  tlje  Btptyu.  27 


PRAYER    FOR    HELP. 

T^ATHER,  help  conquer ! 

-■-       My  spirit  is  sinking, 
Deep  waters  of  sorrow  go  over  my  head ; 

Weeping  and  trembling, 

And  fearing  and  shrinking, 
I  watch  for  the  day,  and  night  cometh  instead. 

Bitter  the  cup 

I  am  hourly  drinking,  — 
How  thorny  the  path  that  I  hourly  tread  ! 

Father,  help  conquer ! 

Earth  holds  out  her  lure, 
And  mortal  affections  yearn  after  the  prize: 

Scarcely  my  heart 

Can  the  struggle  endure  ; 
Scarce  can  I  lift  up  my  tear-blinded  eyes. 

Father,  my  Father, 

Thy  promise  is  sure, — 
Speak  to  my  spirit,  and  bid  me  arise. 

Father,  help  conquer ! 
There  is  not  an  hour 
Of  sorrow  or  joy  but  is  ordered  by  Thee; 
Thou  dost  cut  down 
Who  hast  planted  the  flower,  — 


28  <Sttnmm  <£ortra- 

Tempest  or  calm  at  Thy  bidding  shall  be. 

Look  on  my  sorrow, 

And  give  me  the  power 
Humbly  to  wait  till  Thou  comfortest  me. 

Father,  help  conquer  ! 

Lord,  turn  not  away  ! 
See  with  what  power  the  billows  increase  ! 

Give  me  Thy  love 

For  my  comfort  and  stay, 
Then  shall  my  trembling  and  murmuring  cease. 

Then  shall  my  spirit 

Grow  strong  for  the  fray,  — 
Then  shall  my  weary  heart  rest  in  Thy  peace. 

Father,  help  conquer ! 

I  cry  unto  Thee  ! 
Hardly  my  heart  its  petitions  can  frame  : 

All  is  so  dark 

And  so  painful  to  me, 
All  I  can  utter,  sometimes,  is  Thy  name. 

Father,  help  conquer ! 

My  portion  now  be  ; 
Though  all  else  should  change,  be  Thou  ever  the  same. 

JOHANN    HEINRICH    SCHRODER.       1696. 


<©ut  of  tljc  Dcptijs*  29 


I    WILL   NOT    FEAR. 

^pHY  will  be  done  !     I  will  not  fear 
-*-       The  fate  provided  by  Thy  love  \ 
Though  clouds  and  darkness  shroud  me  here, 
I  know  that  all  is  bright  above. 

The  stars  of  heaven  are  shining  on, 

Though  these  frail  eyes  are  dimmed  with  tears ; 
And,  though  the  hopes  of  earth  be  gone, 

Yet  are  not  ours  the  immortal  years  ? 

Father!  forgive  the  heart  that  clings, 
Thus  trembling,  to  the  things  of  time  \ 

And  bid  the  soul,  on  angel-wings, 
Ascend  into  a  purer  clime. 

There  shall  no  doubts  disturb  its  trust, 

No  sorrows  dim  celestial  love  • 
But  these  afflictions  of  the  dust, 

Like  shadows  of  the  night,  remove. 

That  glorious  life  will  well  repay 

This  life  of  toil  and  care  and  woe  ; 
O  Father !  joyful  on  my  way, 

To  drink  Thy  bitter  cup,  I  go. 

Jane  e.  Roscok.     1832. 


30  cSunmm  <£ortra* 


THOU    KNOWEST,    LORD. 

THOU  knowest,  Lord,  the  weariness  and  sorrow 
Of  the  sad  heart  that  comes  to  Thee  for  rest ; 
Cares  of  to-day,  and  burdens  for  to-morrow, 

Blessings  implored,  and  sins  to  be  confessed : 
I  come  before  Thee  at  Thy  gracious  word, 
And  lay  them  at  Thy  feet,  —  Thou  knowest,  Lord  ! 

Thou  knowest  ail  the  past,  —  how  long  and  blindly 
On  the  dark  mountains  the  lost  wanderer  strayed ; 

How  the  Good  Shepherd  followed,  and  how  kindly 
He  bore  it  home,  upon  His  shoulders  laid, 

And  healed  the  bleeding  wounds,  and  soothed  the  pain, 

And  brought  back  life  and  hope  and  strength  again. 

Thou  knowest  all  the  present,  —  each  temptation, 
Each  toilsome  duty,  each  foreboding  fear  \ 

All  to  myself  assigned  of  tribulation, 

Or  to  beloved  ones,  than  self  more  dear ; 

All  pensive  memories,  as  I  journey  on, 

Longings  for  vanished  smiles,  and  voices  gone. 

Thou  knowest  all  the  future,  —  gleams  of  gladness, 

By  stormy  clouds  too  quickly  overcast ; 
Hours  of  sweet  fellowship  and  parting  sadness, 

And  the  dark  river  to  be  crossed  at  last : 
Oh,  what  could  confidence  and  hope  afford 
To  tread  that  path  but  this,  —  Thou  knowest,  Lord  ! 

Jane  Borthwick. 


Out  of  tije  &tptt)8.  31 


SUBMISSION. 

"OE  still,  my  soul !  — the  Lord  is  on  thy  side  ; 
±-J     Bear  patiently  the  cross  of  grief  and  pain  ; 
Leave  to  thy  God  to  order  and  provide, 

In  every  change  He  faithful  will  remain. 
Be  still,  my  soul  !  — thy  God  doth  undertake  * 

To  guide  the  future  as  He  has  the  past : 
Thy  hope,  thy  confidence,  let  nothing  shake, 

All  now  mysterious  shall  be  bright  at  last. 

Hymns  from  the  Land  of  Luther. 

"TVTO  longer  doubt,  nor  fear,  nor  grieve, 
•*-  ^      Nor  on  uncertain  evils  dwell  • 
Past,  present,  future,  calmly  leave 
To  Him  who  will  do  all  things  well. 

Charlotte  Elliott. 

T3  EST,  weary  heart! 

-*-^-     From  all  thy  silent  griefs  and  secret  pain, 
Thy  profitless  regrets  and  longings  vain  ; 
Wisdom  and  love  have  ordered  all  the  past, 
All  shall  be  blessedness  and  light  at  last ; 

Cast  off  the  cares  that  have  so  long  oppressed, 

Rest,  sweetly  rest  1 

Jane  Burthwick.     1859. 


32  <Sursmm  <&ortra* 


HUMBLY   WAIT. 

AND  shall  I  sit  alone, 
Oppressed  with  grief  and  fear. 
To  God  my  Father  make  my  moan, 
And  He  refuse  to  hear  ? 

If  He  my  Father  be, 
His  pity  He  will  show, 
From  cruel  bondage  set  me  free, 
And  inward  peace  bestow. 

If  still  He  silence  keep, 
'Tis  but  my  faith  to  try ; 
He  knows  and  feels,  whene'er  I  weep, 
And  softens  every  sigh. 

Then  will  I  humbly  wait, 
Nor  once  indulge  despair ; 
My  sins  are  great,  but  not  so  great 
As  His  compassions  are. 

Benjamin  Beddomk.     181 


^ 


#0piration- 


THE    LONGING    SPIRIT. 

MY  spirit  longeth  for  Thee, 
Within  my  troubled  breast, 
Although  I  be  unworthy 
Of  so  Divine  a  Guest. 

Of  so  Divine  a  Guest 

Unworthy  though  I  be, 
Yet  has  my  heart  no  rest 

Unless  it  come  from  Thee. 

Unless  it  come  from  Thee, 

In  vain  I  look  around  ; 
In  all  that  I  can  see 

No  rest  is  to  be  found. 

No  rest  is  to  be  found 

But  in  Thy  blessed  love  : 
Oh,  let  my  wish'  be  crowned, 
And  send  it  from  above  ! 

John   Bvko.m.     1773. 


34  Sttrsum  ©arfca* 

ABIDE    IN    ME   AND    I    IN   YOU. 

THE   SOUL'S   ANSWER. 

THAT  mystic  word  of  Thine,  0  sovereign  Lord, 
Is  all  too  pure,  too  high,  too  deep  for  me ; 
Weary  of  striving,  and  with  longing  faint, 
I  breathe  it  back  again  in  prayer  to  Thee. 

Abide  in  me,  I  pray,  and  I  in  Thee ; 

From  this  good  hour,  oh,  leave  me  never  more  ; 
Then  shall  the  discord  cease,  the  wound  be  healed, 

The  life-long  bleeding  of  the  soul  be  o'er. 

Abide  in  me  ;  o'ershadow  by  Thy  love 

Each  half-formed  purpose  and  dark  thought  of  sin  ; 
Quench,  ere  it  rise,  each  selfish  low  desire, 

And  keep  my  soul  as  Thine,  calm  and  divine. 

As  some  rare  perfume  in  a  vase  of  clay 
Pervades  it  with  a  fragrance  not  its  own, 

So  when  Thou  dwellest  in  a  mortal  soul, 

All  heaven's  own  sweetness  seems  around  it  thrown. 

The  soul  alone,  like  a  neglected  harp, 

Grows  out  of  tune,  and  needs  that  hand  divine  \ 

Dwell  Thou  within  it,  tune  and  touch  the  chords, 
Till  every  note  and  string  shall  answer  Thine. 

Abide  in  me ;  there  have  been  moments  blest, 

When  I  have  heard  Thy  voice  and  felt  Thy  power; 

Then  evil  lost  its  grasp,  and  passion,  hushed, 
Owned  the  divine  enchantment  of  the  hour. 


Aspiration.  35 

These  were  but  seasons  beautiful  and  rare ; 

Abide  in  me,  and  they  shall  ever  be  j 
Fulfil  at  once  thy  precept  and  my  prayer,  — 

Come  and  abide  in  me,  and  I  in  thee. 

Harriet  Beecher  Stowe. 


DIVINE   LOVE. 

OLOVE,  I  languish  at  Thy  stay  ; 
I  pine  for  Thee  with  lingering  smart  \ 
Weary  and  faint  through  long  delay, 

When  wilt  Thou  come  into  my  heart  ? 
From  sin  and  sorrow  set  me  free, 
And  swallow  up  my  soul  in  Thee ! 

Come,  O  Thou  universal  Good ! 

Balm  of  the  wounded  conscience,  come  ! 
The  hungry,  dying  spirit's  food, 

The  weary,  wandering  pilgrim's  home ; 
Haven  to  take  the  shipwrecked  in, 
My  everlasting  rest  from  sin  ! 

Be  Thou,  O  Love,  whate'er  I  want; 

Support  my  feebleness  of  mind  ; 
Relieve  the  thirsty  soul,  the  faint 

Revive,  illuminate  the  blind  ; 
The  mournful  cheer,  the  drooping  lead, 
And  heal  the  sick,  and  raise  the  dead  ! 

Charles  Wesley. 


36  Sttnmnt  ©orfca* 


MY   STRENGTH    AND    MY   HOPE. 

MY  God,  my  Strength,  my  Hope, 
On  Thee  I  cast  my  care, 
With  humble  confidence  look  up, 

And  know  Thou  hear'st  my  prayer. 
Give  me  on  Thee  to  wait, 

Till  I  can  all  things  do  ; 
On  Thee,  Almighty  to  create, 
Almighty  to  renew. 

I  want  a  sober  mind, 

A  self-renouncing  will, 
That  tramples  down  and  casts  behind 

The  baits  of  pleasing  ill  : 
A  soul  inured  to  pain, 

To  hardship,  grief,  and  loss  ; 
Bold  to  take  up,  firm  to  sustain 

The  consecrated  cross. 

I  want  a  heart  to  pray, 

To  pray  and  never  cease, 
Never  to  murmur  at  Thy  stay, 

Or  wish  my  sufferings  less  : 
This  blessing  above  all, 

Always  to  pray,  I  want ; 
Out  of  the  deep  on  Thee  to  call, 

And  never,  never  faint. 


aspiration.  37 

I  rest  upon  Thy  word  ; 

The  promise  is  for  me  : 
My  succor  and  salvation,  Lord, 

Shall  surely  come  from  Thee. 
But  let  me  still  abide, 

Nor  from  my  hope  remove, 
Till  Thou  my  patient  spirit  guide 

Into  Thy  perfect  Love. 

Charles   Wesley.     1742. 


AS    THE    HART    PANTETH. 

AS,  panting  in  the  sultry  beams, 
The  hart  desires  the  cooling  streams, 
So  to  Thy  presence,  Lord,  I  flee, 
So  longs  my  soul,  O  God,  for  Thee; 
Athirst  to  taste  Thy  living  grace, 
And  see  Thy  glory,  face  to  face. 

Ah,  why,  by  passing  clouds  oppressed, 
Should  vexing  thoughts  distract  thy  breast  ? 
Turn,  turn  to  Him,  in  every  pain, 
Whom  suppliants  never  sought  in  vain  ; 
Thy  strength  in  joy's  ecstatic  day. 
Thy  hope  when  joy  has  passed  away. 

John  Bowdler.     1783-1S15. 


38  cSursum  (Kortra* 


NEARER   TO    THEE. 

NEARER,  my  God,  to  Thee, 
Nearer  to  Thee  ! 
E'en  though  it  be  a  cross 

That  raiseth  me  : 
Still  all  my  song  would  be, 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee,  — 
Nearer  to  Thee ! 

Though,  like  the  wanderer, 

The  sun  gone  down, 
Darkness  be  over  me, 

My  rest  a  stone  ; 
Yet  in  my  dreams  I'd  be 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee,  — 

Nearer  to  Thee  ! 

There  let  the  way  appear 

Steps  unto  heaven ; 
All  that  Thou  sendest  me 

In  mercy  given ; 
Angels  to  beckon  me 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee,  — 

Nearer  to  Thee ! 


^teptratCon-  39 

Then  with  my  waking  thoughts 

Bright  with  Thy  praise, 
Out  of  my  stony  griefs 

Bethel  I'll  raise  : 
So  by  my  woes  to  be 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee,  — 

Nearer  to  Thee  ! 

Or,  if  on  joyful  wing, 

Cleaving  the  sky, 
Sun,  moon,  and  stars  forgot, 

Upwards  I  fly ; 
Still  all  my  song  shall  be, 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee,  — 

Nearer  to  Thee ! 

Sarah  F.  Adams.     1848. 


/^\rl,  let  my  utter  helplessness 

^^     Thy  kind  compassion  move  ! 
I  cannot,  Lord,  from  sinning  cease 
Till  I  begin  to  love. 

Peace,  righteousness,  and  joy  divine 

Thou  dost  with  love  impart  • 
That  Thou  art  Love,  that  Thou  art  mine, 

Assure  my  happy  heart ! 

Charles  Wesley.   1772. 


4o  Sttrsttm  ©orira* 


IN    THE    NIGHT   WATCHES. 

TWAS  in  the  watches  of  the  night 
I  thought  upon  Thy  power ; 
I  kept  Thy  lovely  face  in  sight, 
Amid  the  darkest  hour. 

While  I  lay  resting  on  my  bed, 
My  thoughts  arose  on  high  • 

My  God,  my  Life,  my  Hope,  I  said, 
Bring  Thy  salvation  nigh. 

I  strive  to-  mount  Thy  holy  hill, 
And  climb  the  heavenly  road  ; 

And  Thy  right  hand  upholds  me  still, 
When  I  commune  with  God. 

Thy  mercy  stretches  o'er  my  head 

The  shadow  of  Thy  wing  ; 
My  heart  rejoices  in  Thine  aid, 

And  I  Thy  praises  sing. 


Isaac  Watts. 


PSALM    LXIII. 

OGOD,  Thou  art  my  God  alone ; 
Early  to  Thee  my  soul  shall  cry ; 
A  pilgrim  in  a  land  unknown, 

A  thirsty  land  whose  springs  are  dry. 


asptratton.  41 

Thee,  in  the  watches  of  the  night, 

When  I  remember  on  my  bed, 
Thy  presence  makes  the  darkness  light, 

Thy  guardian  wings  are  round  my  head. 
Better  than  life  itself  Thy  love, 

Dearer  than  all  beside  to  me  ; 
For  whom  have  I  in  heaven  above 

Or  what  on  earth  compared  to  Thee  ? 

James  Montgomery.      1822. 

A    CRY   OF   THE    SOUL. 
"  O  Dieu  de  verite,  pour  qui  seulje  soupire" 
f^\  GOD  of  truth,  for  whom  alone  I  sigh, 

^^   Knit  Thou  my  heart  by  strong,  sweet  cords  to  Thee. 
I  tire  of  hearing ;  books  my  patience  try. 

Un tired  to  Thee  I  cry  ; 

Thyself  my  all  shalt  be. 
Lord,  be  Thou  near  and  cheer  my  lonely  way  ; 
With  Thy  sweet  peace  my  aching  bosom  fill  j 
Scatter  my  cares  and  fears  ;  my  griefs  allay ; 

And  be  it  mine  each  day 

To  love  and  please  Thee  still. 
My  God  !   Thou  nearest  me  ;  but  clouds  obscure 
Even  yet  Thy  perfect  radiance,  Truth  divine  ! 
Oh  for  the  stainless  skies,  the  splendors  pure, 

The  joys  that  aye  endure, 

Where  Thine  own  glories  shine  ! 

From  the  French  of  Pierre  Corneille. 


42  <Sursum  ©ortra* 


THE   RETURNING   DOVE. 

OTHOU,  in  whom  the  weary  find 
Their  late,  but  permanent  repose ; 
Physician  of  the  sin-sick  mind, 

Relieve  my  wants,  assuage  my  woes ; 
And  let  my  soul  on  Thee  be  cast, 
Till  life's  fierce  tyranny  be  past. 

Loosed  from  my  God,  and  far  removed, 
Long  have  I  wandered  to  and  fro  ; 

O'er  earth  in  endless  circles  roved, 
Nor  found  whereon  to  rest  below  ; 

Back  to  my  God  at  last  I  fly  ; 

For  oh,  the  waters  still  are  high. 

Selfish  pursuits,  and  nature's  maze, 
The  things  of  earth,  for  Thee  I  leave  ; 

Put  forth  Thy  hand,  Thy  hand  of  grace  ; 
Into  the  ark  of  love  receive ; 

Take  this  poor  fluttering  soul  to  rest, 

And  lodge  it,  Father,  in  Thy  breast. 

Fill  with  inviolable  peace ; 

'Stablish  and  keep  my  settled  heart ; 
In  Thee  may  all  my  wanderings  cease, 

From  Thee  no  more  may  I  depart : 
Thy  utmost  goodness  called  to  prove, 
Loved  with  an  everlasting  love  ! 


Chari.es  Wesley. 


aspiration*  43 


THE   NEW    COVENANT. 

OGOD,  most  merciful  and  true, 
Thy  nature  to  my  soul  impart ; 
'Stablish  with  me  the  covenant  new, 
And  stamp  Thine  image  on  my  heart. 

Remember,  Lord,  my  sins  no  more, 

That  them  I  may  no  more  forget ; 
But,  sunk  in  guiltless  shame,  adore, 

With  speechless  wonder,  at  Thy  feet. 

O'erwhelmed  with  Thy  stupendous  grace, 
I  shall  not  in  Thy  presence  move  ; 

But  breathe  unutterable  praise, 

And  rapturous  awe,  and  silent  love. 

Then  every  murmuring  thought,  and  vain, 

Expires,  in  sweet  confusion  lost : 
I  cannot  of  my  cross  complain,  — 

I  cannot  of  my  goodness  boast. 

Charles  Wesley. 


44  Suraum  ©otfta- 


THOU    HIDDEN    LOVE    OF    GOD. 

THOU  hidden  love  of  God  !  whose  height, 
Whose  depth  unfathomed,  no  man  knows  : 
I  see  from  far  Thy  beauteous  light, 

Inly  I  sigh  for  Thy  repose. 
My  heart  is  pained;  nor  can  it  be 
At  rest,  till  it  finds  rest  in  Thee. 

Thy  secret  voice  invites  me  still 

The  sweetness  of  Thy  yoke  to  prove  ; 

And  fain  I  would,  but  though  my  will 
Seem  fixed,  yet  wide  my  passions  rove  ; 

Yet  hindrances  strew  all  the  way,  — 

I  aim  at  Thee,  yet  from  Thee  stray. 

Tis  mercy  all,  that  Thou  hast  brought 
My  mind  to  seek  her  peace  in  Thee ! 

Yet  while  I  seek,  but  find  Thee  not, 
No  peace  my  wandering  soul  shall  see. 

Oh,  when  shall  all  my  wanderings  end, 

And  all  my  steps  to  Thee-ward  tend  ? 

O  Love,  Thy  sovereign  aid  impart 

To  save  me  from  low-thoughted  care  ; 

Chase  this  self-will  through  all  my  heart, 
Through  all  its  latent  mazes  there ; 

Make  me  Thy  duteous  child,  that  I 

Ceaseless  may  "  Abba,  Father,"  cry! 


aspiration-  45 

Each  moment  draw  from  earth  away 
My  heart,  that  lowly  waits  Thy  call ; 

Speak  to  my  inmost  soul,  and  say, 

"  I  am  Thy  Love,  Thy  God,  Thy  All  !  " 

To  feel  Thy  power,  to  hear  Thy  voice, 

To  taste  Thy  love,  be  all  my  choice. 

Gerhard  Tersteegen.  1697-1769. 
Tr.  by  John  Wesley.     1738. 

FOR    DIVINE    STRENGTH. 

FATHER,  in  Thy  mysterious  presence  kneeling, 
Fain  would  our  souls  feel  all  Thy  kindling  love  ; 
For  we  are  weak  and  need  some  deep  revealing 
Of  trust  and  strength  and  calmness  from  above. 

Lord,  we  have  wandered  forth  through  doubt  and  sorrow, 
And  Thou  hast  made  each  step  an  onward  one  ; 

And  we  will  ever  trust  each  unknown  morrow,  — 
Thou  wilt  sustain  us  till  its  work  is  done. 

In  the  heart's  depths  a  peace  serene  and  holy 
Abides  ;  and  when  pain  seems  to  have  her  will, 

Or  we  despair,  oh  !  may  that  peace  rise  slowly, 
Stronger  than  agony,  and  we  be  still. 

Now,  Father,  —  now,  in  Thy  dear  presence  kneeling, 
Our  spirits  yearn  to  feel  Thy  kindling  love  ; 

Now  make  us  strong,  — we  need  Thy  deep  revealing 
Of  trust,  and  strength,  and  calmness  from  above. 

Samuel  Johnson 


46  <Sunmm  <£ortra- 

AS    PANTS    THE    HART. 

AS  pants  the  hart  for  cooling  streams 
When  heated  in  the  chase, 
So  longs  my  soul  for  Thee,  O  God, 
And  Thy  refreshing  grace. 

For  Thee,  my  God,  the  living  God, 
My  thirsting  soul  doth  pine  ; 

Oh,  when  shall  I  behold  Thy  face, 
Thou  Majesty  Divine  ! 

Why  restless,  why  cast  down,  my  soul  ? 

Trust  God,  who  will  employ 
His  aid  for  Thee,  and  change  these  sighs 

To  thankful  hymns  of  joy. 

Why  restless,  why  cast  down,  my  soul  ? 

Hope  still,  and  thou  shalt  sing 
The  praise  of  Him  who  is  thy  God, 

Thy  health's  eternal  spring. 


Tate  and  Brady. 


DIVINE    EJACULATION. 

FOUNTAIN  of  Light  and  living  Breath, 
Whose  mercies  never  fail  nor  fade  ; 
Fill  me  with  Life  that  hath  no  death, 
Fill  me  with  Light  that  hath  no  shade  ; 
Appoint  the  remnant  of  my  days 
To  see  Thy  power,  and  sing  Thy  praise. 


aspiration,  47 

O  Thou  that  sitt'st  in  Heaven,  and  seest 

My  deeds  without,  my  thoughts  within, — 
Be  Thou  my  Prince,  be  Thou  my  Priest, 
Command  my  soul,  and  cure  my  sin  : 
How  bitter  my  afflictions  be 
I  care  not,  so  I  rise  to  Thee. 

What  I  possess,  or  what  I  crave, 

Brings  no  content,  great  God,  to  me, 
If  what  I  would,  or  what  I  have,  s 
Be  not  possest,  and  blest  in  Thee  : 
What  I  enjoy,  oh,  make  it  mine, 
In  making  me,  that  have  it,  Thine. 

When  winter-fortunes  cloud  the  brows 

Of  summer-friends,  —  when  eyes  grow  strange  ; 
When  plighted  faith  forgets  its  vows  ; 
When  earth  and  all  things  in  it  change  : 
O  Lord,  Thy  mercies  fail  me  never,  — 
Where  once  Thou  lovest,  Thou  lovest  for  ever. 

John  Quarles.    1624-1665 

ENTIRE    CONSECRATION. 

OGOD,  what  offering  shall  I  give 
To  Thee,  the  Lord  of  earth  and  skies  ? 
My  spirit,  soul,  and  flesh  receive, 

A  holy,  living  sacrifice. 
Small  as  it  is,  'tis  all  my  store  ; 
More  shouldst  Thou  have,  if  I  had  more. 


48  <Sunmm  fitortra* 

Now  then,  my  God,  Thou  hast  my  soul ; 

No  longer  mine,  but  Thine  I  am  : 
Guard  Thou  Thine  own,  possess  it  whole  ! 

Cheer  it  with  hope,  with  love  inflame  ! 
Thou  hast  my  spirit ;  there  display 
Thy  glory  to  the  perfect  day. 

Thou  hast  my  flesh,  Thy  hallowed  shrine, 

Devoted  solely  to  Thy  will : 
Here  let  Thy  light  for  ever  shine  : 

This  house  still  let  Thy  presence  fill  : 
O  Source  of  Life,  live,  dwell,  and  move 
In  me,  till  all  my  life  be  love  ! 

Send  down  Thy  likeness  from  above, 

And  let  this  my  adorning  be  : 
Clothe  me  with  wisdom,  patience,  love, 

With  lowliness  and  purity  : 
Than  gold  and  pearls  more  precious  far, 
And  brighter  than  the  morning  star. 

Lord,  arm  me  with  Thy  Spirit's  might, 
Since  I  am  called  by  Thy  great  name, 

In  Thee  let  all  my  thoughts  unite, 
Of  all  my  works  be  Thou  the  aim  : 

Thy  love  attend  me  all  my  days, 

And  my  sole  business  be  Thy  praise. 

Gerhard  Tersteegen. 


aspiration*  49 


THE    PEACE   OF    GOD. 

WE  ask  not,  Father,  the  repose 
Which  comes  from  outward  rest, 
If  we  may  have  through  all  life's  woes 
Thy  peace  within  our  breast;  — 

That  peace  which  suffers  and  is  strong, 

Trusts  where  it  cannot  see, 
Deems  not  the  trial  way  too  long, 

But  leaves  the  end  with  Thee  •  — 

That  peace  which  through  the  billows'  moan, 

And  angry  tempests'  roar, 
Sends  forth  its  calm,  unfaltering  tone 

Of  joy  for  evermore  ;  — 

That  peace  which  flows  serene  and  deep, 

A  river  in  the  soul, 
Whose  banks  a  living  verdure  keep  • 

God's  sunshine  o'er  the  whole. 

Hymns  of  the  Spirit. 


5o  cSurmtm  ©ortra* 


SURSUM    CORDA. 

LIFT  up  your  hearts  !  "  Yes,  I  will  lift 
My  heart  and  soul,  dear  Lord,  to  Thee, 
Who  every  good  and  perfect  gift 
Vouchsaf'st  so  lavishly  and  free. 

All  that  is  best,  from  Thee  comes  down 

On  us,  with  rich  and  ample  store, 
Thy  bounteous  hands  our  wishes  crown 

With  good,  increasing  more  and  more. 

Then,  while  I  live,  with  ardent  eye, 

Let  me  look  up  to  Thee,  and  learn, 
From  blessings  here,  to  look  on  high, 

And  purer  blessings  there  discern  ! 

All  Thou  hast  given  is  Thine,  then  take 
Me,  Thine  own  gift,  for  all  Thine  own, 

And  teach  me  every  day  to  make 
New  vows  of  love  to  Thee  alone  ! 

Lyra  Catholica. 


&npivatUm.  51 


PRAYER    FOR    GUIDANCE. 

/^\  THOU,  to  whose  all-searching  sight 
^-^     The  darkness  shineth  as  the  light, 
Search,  prove  my  heart,  it  pants  for  Thee, 
Oh,  burst  these  bonds  and  set  it  free ! 

If  in  this  darksome  wild  I  stray, 

Be  Thou  my  light,  be  Thou  my  way; 

No  foes,  no  violence  I  fear, 

No  fraud,  while  Thou,  my  God,  art  near. 

When  rising  floods  my  soul  o'erflow, 
When  sinks  my  heart  in  waves  of  woe, 
O  Lord,  Thy  timely  aid  impart, 
And  raise  my  head,  and  cheer  my  heart ! 

If  rough  and  thorny  be  the  way, 
My  strength  proportion  to  my  day  \ 
Till  toil,  and  grief,  and  pain  shall  cease, 
Where  all  is  calm,  and  joy,  and  peace. 

Gerhard  Tersteegen.     1731 


52  Suvsum  Cnrtrau 


UP    TO    THE    HILLS. 

TO  the  hills  I  lift  mine  eyes, 
To  the  everlasting  hills, 
Streaming  thence  in  fresh  supplies, 

My  soul  the  Spirit  feels. 
Faithful  soul,  pray  always  ;  pray, 

And  still  in  God  confide  ; 
He  thy  feeble  steps  shall  stay, 
Nor  suffer  thee  to  slide. 

Neither  sin,  nor  earth,  nor  hell 

Thy  Keeper  can  surprise  ; 
Careless  slumbers  cannot  steal 

On  His  all-seeing  eyes ; 
He  is  Israel's  sure  defence  ; 

Israel  all  His  care  shall  prove  ; 
Kept  by  watchful  Providence, 

And  ever-waking  Love. 

See  the  Lord,  thy  Keeper,  stand 

Omnipotently  near ; 
Lo  !  He  holds  thee  by  thy  hand, 

And  banishes  thy  fear  ; 
Shadows  with  His  wings  thy  head  ; 

Guards  from  all  impending  harms  ; 
Round  thee  and  beneath  are  spread 

The  everlasting  arms. 


Charles  Wksley. 


&gpirattott*  S3 


OH,    DRAW   ME. 

OH,  draw  me,  Father,  after  Thee  ! 
So  shall  I  run  and  never  tire  ; 
With  gracious  words  still  comfort  me  ; 
Be  Thou  my  hope,  my  sole  desire  : 
Free  me  from  every  weight ;  nor  fear 
Nor  sin  can  come,  if  Thou  art  here. 

From  all  eternity  with  love 
Unchangeable  Thou  hast  me  viewed  ; 
Ere  knew  this  beating  heart  to  move, 
Thy  tender  mercies  me  pursued  : 
Ever  with  me  may  they  abide, 
And  close  me  in  on  every  side  ! 

In  suffering  be  Thy  love  my  peace, 

In  weakness  be  Thy  love  my  power; 

And  when  the  storms  of  life  shall  cease, 

My  God,  in  that  important  hour, 

In  death  as  life  be  Thou  my  guide, 

And  bear  me  through  death's  whelming  tide. 

Moravian*. 


54  cSttnmm  i&orTra, 


EMPLOYMENT. 

IF  as  a  flower  doth  spread  and  die, 
Thou  would'st  extend  me  to  some  good, 
Before  I  were  by  frosts'  extremity 
Nipt  in  the  bud  ; 

The  sweetness  and  the  praise  were  Thine  ; 
But  the  extension  and  the  room, 
Which  in  Thy  garland  I  should  fill,  were  mine, 
At  Thy  great  doom. 

For  as  Thou  dost  impart  Thy  grace, 
The  greater  shall  our  glory  be. 
The  measure  of  our  joys  is  in  this  place, 
The  stuff  with  Thee. 

Let  me  not  languish  then,  and  spend 
A  life  as  barren  to  Thy  praise 
As  is  the  dust,  to  which  that  life  doth  tend, 
But  with  delays. 

All  things  are  busy ;  only  I 
Neither  bring  honey  with  the  bees, 
Nor  flowers  to  make  that,  nor  the  husbandry 
To  water  these. 

I  am  no  link  of  Thy  great  chain, 
But  all  my  company  is  a  weed. 
Lord  !  place  me  in  Thy  concert ;  give  one  strain 
To  my  poor  reed. 

George  Herbert. 


aspiration*  55 


O    LOVE    DIVINE. 

OLOVE  divine,  how  sweet  Thou  art  I 
When  shall  I  find  my  willing  heart 
All  taken  up  by  Thee  ? 
I  thirst,  I  faint,  I  die  to  prove 
The  greatness  of  redeeming  Love, 
The  Love  of  God  to  me. 

Stronger  His  Love  than  death  or  hell  ; 
Its  riches  are  unsearchable  ; 

The  first-born  sons  of  light 
Desire  in  vain  its  depths  to  see  ; 
They  cannot  reach  the  mystery, 

The  length,  and  breadth,  and  height. 

God  only  knows  the  Love  of  God  \ 
Oh  that  it  now  were  shed  abroad 

In  this  poor  stony  heart ! 
For  Love  I  sigh,  for  Love  I  pine  : 
This  only  portion,  Lord,  be  mine, 

Be  mine  this  better  part ! 

Thy  only  Love  do  I  require  ; 
Nothing  in  earth  beneath  desire, 

Nothing  in  heaven  above  ; 
Let  earth,  and  heaven,  and  all  things  go  ; 
Give  me  Thy  only  Love  to  know. 

Give  me  Thy  only  Love. 

Chaklrs  Wbsley.     17-49. 


56  <Stinmm  (ftortta- 


WHOM    BUT    THEE. 

FROM  past  regret  and  present  faithlessness, 
From  the  deep  shadow  of  foreseen  distress, 
And  from  the  nameless  weariness  that  grows 
As  life's  long  day  seems  wearing  to  its  close,  — 

Thou  Life  within  my  life,  than  self  more  near ! 

Thou  veiled  Presence  infinitely  clear  ! 
From  all  illusive  shows  of  sense  I  flee 

To  find  my  centre  and  my  rest  in  Thee. 

Below  all  depths  Thy  saving  mercy  lies, 

Through  thickest  glooms  I  see  Thy  light  arise, 

Above  the  highest  heavens  Thou  art  not  found 
More  surely  than  within  this  earthly  round. 

Take  part  with  me  against  these  doubts  that  rise, 
And  seek  to  throne  Thee  far  in  distant  skies ! 

Take  part  with  me  against  this  self  that  dares 
Assume  the  burden  of  these  sins  and  cares ! 

How  can  I  call  Thee  who  art  always  here  — 

How  shall  I  praise  Thee  who  art  still  most  dear  — 

What  may  I  give  Thee  save  what  Thou  hast  given  — 
And  whom  but  Thee  have  I  in  earth  or  heaven  ? 

Eliza  Scudder. 


"  PEACE    LIKE    A    RIVER." 
Isaiah  xlviii. 

GIVE  me  a  heart  of  calm  repose 
Amid  the  world's  loud  roar  ; 
A  life  that  like  a  river  flows, 
Along  a  peaceful  shore. 

I  would  roll  onward  to  the  deep, 

In  brightness,  not  in  foam  • 
And  'mid  earth's  noise  in  stillness  keep 

My  soul's  interior  home. 

Come,  Holy  Spirit,  hush  my  heart 

With  gentleness  divine  ; 
Indwelling  peace  Thou  canst  impart, 

Oh,  make  the  blessing  mine  ! 

Above  the  scenes  of  storm  and  strife, 

There  spreads  a  region  fair ; 
Give  me  to  live  that  higher  life 

And  breathe  that  purer  air. 

Allay  this  feverish,  restless  mood, 

Arrest  life's  eager  chase, 
And  quench  the  thirst  for  earthly  good 

With  thy  bedewing  grace  ! 
Come,  Holy  Spirit,  breathe  that  peace 

Which  flows  from  pardoned  sin  ; 
Then  shall  my  soul  her  conflict  cease, 

And  find  a  heaven  within. 

Anonymous. 


58  Surmtm  (ftortra* 


I    WANT   THE    SPIRIT    OF    POWER   WITHIN. 

I  WANT  the  spirit  of  power  within, 
Of  love,  and  a  healthful  mind  ; 
Of  power  to  conquer  inbred  sin  : 

Of  love  to  Thee  and  all  mankind ; 
Of  health,  that  pain  and  death  defies, 
Most  vigorous  when  the  body  dies. 

Oh  that  the  Comforter  would  come  ! 

Nor  visit  as  a  transient  guest, 
But  fix  in  me  His  constant  home, 

And  keep  possession  of  my  breast : 
And  make  my  soul  His  loved  abode, 
The  temple  of  indwelling  God ! 

Come,  Holy  Ghost,  my  heart  inspire  ! 

Attest  that  I  am  born  again  ; 
Come,  and  baptize  me  now  with  fire, 

Nor  let  Thy  former  gifts  be  vain  : 
I  cannot  rest  in  sins  forgiven  ; 
Where  is  the  earnest  of  my  heaven  ? 

Where  Thy  indubitable  seal 

That  ascertains  the  kingdom  mine  ? 

The  powerful  stamp  I  long  to  feel, 
The  signature  of  love  divine  ! 

Oh,  shed  it  in  my  heart  abroad, 

Fulness  of  love,  of  heaven,  of  God. 

Charles  Wesley. 


aspiration-  59 


THEE    WILL    I    LOVE. 

r  I  ^HEE  will  I  love,  my  strength,  my  tower; 

■*■        Thee  will  I  love,  my  joy,  my  crown  ; 
Thee  will  I  love  with  all  my  power, 

In  all  Thy  works,  and  Thee  alone  : 
Thee  will  I  love  till  the  pure  fire 
Fill  my  whole  soul  with  chaste  desire. 

Ah  !  why  did  I  so  late  Thee  know, 
Thee,  lovelier  than  the  sons  of  men  ! 

Ah  !  why  did  I  no  sooner  go 

To  Thee,  the  only  ease  in  pain  ! 

Ashamed  I  sigh,  and  inly  mourn, 

That  I  so  late  to  Thee  did  turn. 

In  darkness  willingly  I  strayed  : 

I  sought  Thee,  yet  from  Thee  I  roved  : 

Far  wide  my  wandering  thoughts  were  spread, 
Thy  creatures  more  than  Thee  I  loved ; 

And  now,  if  more  at  length  I  see, 

'Tis  through  Thy  light,  and  comes  from  Thee. 

I  thank  Thee,  uncreated  Sun, 

That  Thy  bright  beams  on  me  have  shined  ; 
I  thank  Thee,  who  hast  overthrown 

My  foes,  and  healed  my  wounded  mind  ; 
I  thank  Thee,  whose  enlivening  voice 
Bids  my  freed  heart  in  Thee  rejoice. 


60  cSttrmtm  ©ortra. 

Uphold  me  in  the  doubtful  race, 

Nor  suffer  me  again  to  stray ; 
Strengthen  my  feet  with  steady  pace 

Still  to  press  forward  in  Thy  way ; 
My  soul  and  flesh,  O  Lord  of  might, 
Fill,  satiate  with  Thy  heavenly  light. 

Give  to  mine  eyes  refreshing  tears ; 

Give  to  my  heart  chaste,  hallowed  fires  ;  * 
Give  to  my  soul,  with  filial  fears, 

The  love  that  all  heaven's  host  inspires, 
That  all  my  powers,  with  all  their  might, 
In  Thy  sole  glory  may  unite. 

Thee  will  I  love,  my  joy,  my  crown. 
Thee  will  I  love,  my  Lord,  my  God  ; 

Thee  will  I  love,  beneath  Thy  frown 
Or  smile,  Thy  sceptre  or  Thy  rod  ; 

What  though  my  flesh  and  heart  decay, 

Thee  shall  I  love  in  endless  day. 

JOHANN    SCHEFFLER.      1657. 

Tr.  by  John  Wesley. 

A    HEAVENLY    SOLITUDE. 

LORD,  with  Thy  love  my  soul  illume, 
And  then,  though  dark  be  all  around, 
The  inward  joy,  for  outward  gloom, 
May  only  be  the  more  profound. 


Aspiration.  61 

The  eye  of  faith  may  farther  see 

Into  the  depths  of  love  divine  ; 
Because  the  eye  less  strong  is  free 

From  things  which  dazzling,  wildering  shine. 

The  circling  gloom  may  but  exclude 

Fond  dreams,  to  brighter  seasons  known, 

And  make  a  heavenly  solitude  ; 
A  happy  soul,  with  God  alone. 

Thomas  Davis.     1864. 

OPEN,    LORD,    MY    INWARD    EAR. 

OPEN,  Lord,  my  inward  ear, 
And  bid  my  heart  rejoice  ; 
Bid  my  quiet  spirit  hear 

Thy  comfortable  voice  ; 
Never  in  the  whirlwind  found, 

Or  where  earthquakes  rock  the  place, 
Still  and  silent  is  the  sound, 
The  whisper  of  Thy  grace. 

From  the  world  of  sin  and  noise 

And  hurry,  I  withdraw ; 
For  the  small  and  inward  voice 

I  wait  with  humble  awe  ; 
Silent  am  I  now  and  still, 

Dare  not  in  Thy  presence  move ; 
To  my  waiting  soul  reveal 

The  secret  of  Thy  love. 

Charles  Whslsy.     1742- 


62  Sunmm  <£ortra- 

THE    SPIRIT    OF    GOD. 

THE   FOUNTAIN    OF   WISDOM    AND    PURITY. 

OGOD,  O  Spirit,  Light  of  all  that  live, 
Who  dost  on  us  that  sit  in  darkness  shine, 
Our  darkness  ever  with  Thy  Light  doth  strive, 
In  vain  Thou  lurest  us  with  Thy  beams  divine ; 
Yet  none,  O  Spirit,  from  Thine  eye  can  hide, 
Gladly  will  I  Thy  searching  glance  abide. 

0  Breath  from  out  the  Eternal  Silence,  blow 
All  softly  o'er  my  spirit's  barren  ground, 

The  precious  fulness  of  my  God  bestow, 

That  where  erst  sin  and  shame  alone  were  found, 
Faith,  love,  and  holy  reverence  may  upspring, 
In  spirit  and  in  truth  to  worship  God  our  King. 

Oh,  let  my  thoughts,  my  actions,  and  my  will 

Obedient  solely  to  Thy  impulse  move, 
My  heart  and  senses  keep  Thou  blameless  still, 
Fixed  and  absorbed  in  God's  unuttered  love. 
Thy  praying,  teaching,  striving,  in  my  heart, 
Let  me  not  quench,  nor  make  Thee  to  depart. 

1  give  myself  to  Thee,  to  Thee  alone, 

From  all  else  sundered,  Thou  art  ever  near; 
The  creature  and  myself  I  all  disown, 

Trusting  with  inmost  faith  that  God  is  here  : 
O  God,  O  Spirit,  Light  of  Life,  we  see 
None  ever  wait  in  vain,  who  wait  for  Thee. 

Gekhakd  Teksteegen.     1697-1769. 


aspiration*  63 


I    SHALL   NOT   WANT. 

THOU  All-sufficient  One  ! 
Who  art 
The  chosen  portion  of  my  heart ! 
Other  rejoicing  need  I  none. 
I  can  find  all  in  Thee, 
Thou  chiefest  good  to  me  ! 
Who  has  Thee  is  satisfied  ; 
Who  by  Thee  doth  still  abide 
Is  no  more  lonely,  at  Thy  side. 

To  whom  Thou  dost  reveal 
Thy  face, 
He  lives  in  joy  in  every  place,  — 
In  every  time  has  what  he  will. 
Who  in  his  deep  heart-ground 
To  Thee  is  firmly  bound, 
Still  and  joyful,  knows  no  fear. 
Earth  costs  him  no  bitter  tear,  — 
Earth  grows  dim  when  Thou  art  near. 

O  highest  joy  of  joy  ! 
True  rest ! 
Comfort  of  every  aching  breast ! 
Whom  can  earth  trouble  or  annoy, 
Whom  Thou  art  near  to  bless,  — 
Who  does  Thy  love  possess? 


64  <Sttrsttm  i&ortta- 

All  I  seek  for  out  of  Thee 
Hindrance  to  my  joy  might  be, 
And  diminish  peace  in  me. 

Whom  Thou  dost  call  Thy  child, 

Thine  own,  — 
By  all  on  earth  may  be  unknown, 
By  all  on  earth  may  be  reviled  ;  — 

What  then  ?  if  God  be  his, 

He  needs  no  other  bliss. 
If  I  know  that  I  have  Thee, 
Life  and  strength  and  joy  may  flee, 
Griefs  may  come,  — they  move  not  me. 

Come,  O  Thou  Blessed  One, 

My  choice  ! 
Now  in  Thy  light  make  me  rejoice, 
Come,  fill  the  soul  which  Thou  hast  won. 

Come,  take  the  whole,  that  I 

To  Thee  may  live  and  die. 
I  am  Thine,  oh,  be  Thou  mine, 
Until  in  yonder  life  divine 
Thy  face  shall  on  me  fully  shine  ! 

Gerhard  Tersteegen. 


Slsiuratton-  65 


NIL   LAUDIBUS    NOSTRIS   EGES. 

/^\UR  praise  Thou  need'st  not,  but  Thy  love, 
^-^     Our  Father  and  our  Friend, 
Would  have  our  prayers  thus  soar  above, 
In  blessings  to  descend. 

Thy  secret  judgments'  depths  profound 

Still  sings  the  silent  night ; 
The  day  upon  his  golden  round 

Thy  pity  infinite. 

The  soul  lost  in  astonishment 

Would  speechless  wonder  fill ; 
But,  in  the  ravished  bosom  pent, 

Love  cannot  all  be  still. 

Feeble  and  faint,  she  fain  would  tell 

Of  our  great  Father's  love, 
Tempering  the  ills  that  with  us  dwell, 

And  pledging  good  above. 

Thither  would  our  best  thoughts  aspire, 

But  chains  on  us  abide  ; 
Oh,  quicken  Thou  our  faint  desire, 

And  to  Thy  presence  guide ! 

Isaac  Williams.     1839. 
5 


66  <Sunmm  <£ortra- 


PRAYER    FOR    STRONG    FAITH. 

/^H  for  a  faith  that  will  not  shrink, 
^^     Though  pressed  by  every  foe  ; 
That  will  not  tremble  on  the  brink 
Of  any  earthly  woe  ;  — 

That  will  not  murmur  nor  complain 

Beneath  the  chastening  rod, 
But,  in  the  hour  of  grief  or  pain, 

Will  lean  upon  its  God  ;  — 

A  faith  that  shines  more  bright  and  clear 

When  tempests  rage  without  ; 
That  when  in  danger  knows  no  fear, 

In  darkness  feels  no  doubt;  — 

A  faith  that  keeps  the  narrow  way 

Till  life's  last  hour  is  fled, 
And  with  a  pure  and  heavenly  ray 

Lights  up  a  dying  bed. 

Lord,  give  us  such  a  faith  as  this, 

And  then,  whate'er  may  come, 
We'll  taste  e'en  here  the  hallowed  bliss 

Of  an  eternal  home. 

William  H.  Bathurst.     1831. 


Wonting  ann  Abetting- 


DAYSPRING    OF   ETERNITY. 

DAYSPRING  of  Eternity ! 
Dawn  on  us  this  morning-tide. 
Light  from  Light's  exhaustless  sea, 
Now  no  more  Thy  radiance  hide, 
But  dispel  with  glorious  might 
All  our  night. 

Let  the  morning  dew  of  love 

On  our  sleeping  conscience  rain ; 
Gentle  comfort  from  above 

Flow  through  life's  long  parched  plain ; 
Water  daily  us  Thy  flock 
From  the  rock. 

Let  the  glow  of  love  destroy 

Cold  obedience,  faintly  given ; 
Wake  our  hearts  to  strength  and  joy 

With  the  flushing  eastern  heaven  \ 
Let  us  truly  rise  ere  yet 
Life  hath  set. 

Von  Rosexroth.     1684. 


68  Sttnmm  <£ortra* 


MORNING   HYMN. 

ONCE  more  from  rest  I  rise  again, 
To  greet  a  day  of  toil  and  pain, 
My  Heaven-appointed  lot ; 
Unknowing  what  new  grief  may  be 
With  this  new  day  in  store  for  me  ; 

But  it  shall  harm  me  not 
I  know  full  well  •  my  loving  God 
Will  suffer  not  a  hurtful  load. 

My  burden  every  day  is  new, 
But  every  day  my  God  is  true, 

And  all  my  cares  hath  borne  ; 
Ere  eventide  can  no  man  know 
What  Day  hath  brought  of  joy  or  woe ; 

And  though  it  seem  each  morn 
To  some  new  path  of  suffering  call, 
With  God  I  can  surmount  it  all. 

Since  this  I  know,  oh,  wherefore  sink, 
My  faithless  heart  ?     And  why  dost  shrink 

To  take  thy  load  again  ? 
Bear  what  thou  canst,  God  bears  thy  lot, 
The  Lord  of  All,  He  stumbleth  not ; 

Pure  blessing  shalt  thou  gain, 
If  thou  with  Him  right  onward  go, 
Nor  fear  to  tread  the  path  of  woe. 

Anton  Ulrich,  Duke  of  Brunswick.     1667. 


fWomutfl  autr  libctunrj-  69 


WHEN    I    AWAKE,    I    AM    STILL  WITH    THEE. 

STILL,  still  with  Thee,  when  purple  morning  breaketh, 
When  the  bird  waketh,  and  the  shadows  flee ; 
Fairer  than  morning,  lovelier  than  the  daylight, 
Dawns  the  sweet  consciousness,  I  am  with  Thee  ! 

Alone  with  Thee,  amid  the  mystic  shadows, 
The  solemn  hush  of  nature  newly  born  ; 

Alone  with  Thee  in  breathless  adoration, 
In  the  calm  dew  and  freshness  of  the  morn. 

As  in  the  dawning,  o'er  the  waveless  ocean, 
The  image  of  the  morning-star  doth  rest, 

So  in  this  stillness  Thou  beholdest  only 
Thine  image  in  the  waters  of  my  breast. 

Still,  still  with  Thee  !  as,  to  each  new-born  morning, 

A  fresh  and  solemn  splendor  still  is  given, 
So  doth  this  blessed  consciousness,  awaking, 

Breathe,  each  day,  nearness  unto  Thee  and  Heaven. 
When  sinks  the  soul,  subdued  by  toil,  to  slumber, 

Its  closing  eye  looks  up  to  Thee  in  prayer  ; 
Sweet  the  repose  beneath  Thy  wings  o'ershading, 

But  sweeter  still  to  wake  and  find  Thee  there. 
So  shall  it  be  at  last,  in  that  bright  morning, 

When  the  soul  waketh,  and  life's  shadows  flee  ; 
Oh,  in  that  hour,  fairer  than  daylight  dawning. 

Shall  rise  the  glorious  thought,  I  am  with  Thee  ! 

Hakkiet  Beecher  Siowk. 


7o  <Sttnmm  (Kflrfta- 


VESPER  HYMN. 

THE  day  is  done ;  the  weary  day  of  thought   and 
toil  is  past, 
Soft  falls  the  twilight  cool  and  gray  on  the  tired  earth 

at  last : 
By  wisest  teachers  wearied,  by  gentlest  friends  oppressed, 
In  Thee  alone,  the  soul,  outworn,  refreshment  finds  and 
rest. 

Bend,  Gracious  Spirit,  from  above,  like  these  o'erarching 

skies, 
And  to  Thy  firmament  of  Love  lift  up  these  longing  eyes  ; 
And,  folded  by  Thy  sheltering  Hand,  in  refuge  still  and 

deep, 
Let  blessed  thoughts  from  Thee  descend,  as  drop  the 

dews  of  sleep. 

And  when  refreshed  the  soul  once  more  puts  on  new 

life  and  power  ; 
Oh,  let  Thine  image,  Lord,  alone,  gild  the  first  waking 

hour  ! 
Let   that    dear    Presence    dawn  and  glow,    fairer  than 

Morn's  first  ray, 
And  Thy  pure  radiance  overflow  the  splendor  of  the 

day. 


fHorutttfl  antt  lEfcnfng*  71 

So  in  the  hastening  even,  so  in  the  coming  morn, 

When  deeper  slumber  shall  be  given,  and  fresher  life 
be  born, 

Shine  out,  true  Light !  to  guide  my  way  amid  that  deep- 
ening gloom, 

And  rise,  O  Morning  Star,  the  first  that  .dayspring  to 
illume  ! 

I  cannot  dread  the  darkness  where  Thou  wilt  watch  o'er 

me, 
Nor  smile  to  greet  the  sunrise  unless  Thy  smile  I  see  ; 
Creator,  Saviour,  Comforter  !  on  Thee  my  soul  is  cast  ; 
At   morn,   at   night,   in  earth,  in  heaven,  be  Thou  my 

First  and  Last ! 

Eliza  Scudder.     October,  1874. 


EVENING    HYMN. 

THE  shadows  of  the  evening  hours 
Fall  from  the  darkening  sky  ; 
LTpon  the  fragrance  of  the  flowers 

The  dews  of  evening  lie  : 
Before  Thy  throne,  O  Lord  of  heaven, 

We  kneel  at  close  of  day  ; 
Look  on  Thy  children  from  on  high, 
And  hear  us  while  we  pray. 


72  Sursum  ©ortrau 

The  sorrows  of  Thy  servants,  Lord, 

Oh,  do  not  Thou  despise  ; 
But  let  the  incense  of  our  prayers 

Before  Thy  mercy  rise ; 
The  brightness  of  the  coming  night 

Upon  the  darkness  rolls  : 
With  hopes  of  future  glory  chase 

The  shadows  on  our  souls. 

Slowly  the  rays  of  daylight  fade  \ 

So  fade  within  our  heart 
The  hopes  in  earthly  love  and  joy, 

That  one  by  one  depart : 
Slowly  the  bright  stars,  one  by  one, 

Within  the  heavens  shine,  — 
Give  us,  O  Lord,  fresh  hopes  in  heaven, 

And  trust  in  things  divine. 

Let  peace,  O  Lord,  Thy  peace,  O  God, 

Upon  our  souls  descend  ; 
From  midnight  fears  and  perils,  Thou 

Our  trembling  hearts  defend  ; 
Give  us  a  respite  from  our  toil, 

Calm  and  subdue  our  woes  ; 
Through  the  long  day  we  suffer,  Lord, 

O  give  us  now  repose  ! 


Adelaide  A.  Procter. 


fHorutnfl  autr  iSbnting*  73 


NIGHT. 

WHAT  though  downy  slumbers  flee, 
Strangers  to  my  couch  and  me  ? 
Sleepless,  well  I  know  to  rest, 
Lodged  within  my  Father's  breast. 

He  in  these  serenest  hours 
Guides  my  intellectual  powers, 
And  His  Spirit  doth  diffuse, 
Sweeter  far  than  midnight  dews, 

Lifting  all  my  thoughts  above, 
On  the  wings  of  faith  and  love ; 
Blest  alternative  to  me, 
Thus  to  sleep  or  wake  with  Thee ! 

What  if  death  my  sleep  invade  ? 
Should  I  be  of  death  afraid  ? 
Whilst  encircled  by  Thine  arm, 
Death  may  strike,  but  cannot  harm. 

With  Thy  heavenly  presence  blest, 
Death  is  life,  and  labor  rest ; 
Welcome  sleep  or  death  to  me, 
Still  secure,  for  still  with  Thee  ! 

Philip  Doddridge.     1755. 


74  Sttrsum  (ftortra- 


ALL'S  WELL. 

THE  day  is  ended.     Ere  I  sink  to  sleep 
My  weary  spirit  seeks  repose  in  Thine  : 
Father !  forgive  my  trespasses,  and  keep 
This  little  life  of  mine. 

With  loving-kindness  curtain  Thou  my  bed  ; 
And  cool  in  rest  my  burning  pilgrim  feet ; 
Thy  pardon  be  the  pillow  for  my  head,  — 
So  shall  my  sleep  be  sweet. 

At  peace  with  all  the  world,  dear  Lord,  and  Thee, 
No  fears  my  soul's  unwavering  faith  can  shake  ; 
All's  well  !  whichever  side  the  grave  for  me 
The  morning  light  may  break  ! 

Harriet  McEwen  Kimball. 


MIDNIGHT    HYMN. 

IN  the  mid  silence  of  the  voiceless  night, 
When,  chased  by  airy  dreams,  the  slumbers  flee, 
Whom  in  the  darkness  doth  my  spirit  seek, 
O  God,  but  Thee  ? 


fHomtng  antr  Ebcniujj.  75 

And  if  there  be  a  weight  upon  my  breast, 
Some  vague  impression  of  the  day  foregone, 
Scarce  knowing  what  it  is,  I  fly  to  Thee, 
And  lay  it  down. 

Or  if  it  be  the  heaviness  that  comes 
In  token  of  anticipated  ill, 
My  bosom  takes  no  heed  of  what  it  is, 
Since  'tis  Thy  will. 

For,  oh,  in  spite  of  past  and  present  care, 
Or  any  thing  beside,  how  joyfully 
Passes  that  silent,  solitary  hour, 
My  God,  with  Thee  ! 

More  tranquil  than  the  stillness  of  the  night, 
More  peaceful  than  the  silence  of  that  hour, 
More  blest  than  any  thing,  my  bosom  lies 
Beneath  Thy  power. 

For  what  is  there  on  earth  that  I  desire 
Of  all  that  it  can  give  or  take  from  me, 
Or  whom  in  heaven  doth  my  spirit  seek, 
O  God,  but  Thee  ! 

Anonymous.     (MS.  found  in  a  chest,  in  an  English  cottage.) 


76  Sbuvuum  ©ortrau 


EVENING    HYMN. 

I  REST  beneath  the  Almighty's  shade ; 
My  griefs  expire,  my  troubles  cease  ; 
Thou,  Lord,  on  whom  my  soul  is  stayed, 
Wilt  keep  me  still  in  perfect  peace. 

Wherefore  in  confidence  I  close 
My  eyes,  for  Thine  are  open  still ; 

My  spirit,  lulled  in  calm  repose, 
Waits  for  the  counsels  of  Thy  will. 

After  Thy  likeness  let  me  rise, 

If  here  Thou  wiliest  my  longer  stay; 

Or  close  in  mortal  sleep  mine  eyes, 
To  open  them  in  endless  day. 


Charles  Wesley. 


€ru£t  anti  $eace- 


THE  MERCIFUL  PROVIDENCE  OF  GOD. 

SHALL  I  not  sing  praise  to  Thee, 
Shall  I  not  give  thanks,  O  Lord  ? 
Since  for  us  in  all  I  see 

How  Thou  keepest  watch  and  ward ; 
How  the  truest,  tenderest  love 
Ever  fills  Thy  heart,  my  God, 
Helping,  cheering,  on  their  road, 
All  who  in  Thy  service  move. 
All  things  else  have  but  their  day, 
God's  love  only  lasts  for  aye. 

When  I  sleep  my  Guardian  wakes, 
And  revives  my  wearied  mind  ; 

Every  morning  on  me  breaks 

With  some  mark  of  love  most  kind  ; 

Had  my  God  not  stood  my  Friend, 


78  Sbuvnum  (ftortra- 

Had  His  countenance  not  been 
Here  my  guide,  I  had  not  seen 
Many  a  trial  reach  its  end. 

All  things  else  have  but  their  day, 

God's  love  only  lasts  for  aye. 

All  my  life  I  still  have  found, 

And  I  will  forget  it  never, 
Every  sorrow  hath  its  bound, 

And  no  cross  endures  for  ever. 
After  all  the  winter's  snows 

Comes  sweet  summer  back  again  ; 

Patient  souls  ne'er  wait  in  vain, 
Joy  is  given  for  all  their  woes. 
All  things  else  have  but  their  day, 
God's  love  only  lasts  for  aye. 

Since,  then,  neither  change  nor  end 
In  Thy  love  can  e'er  have  place, 

Father  !  I  beseech  Thee,  send 
Unto  me  Thy  loving  grace. 

Help  Thy  feeble  child,  and  give 

Strength  to  serve  Thee  day  and  night, 
Loving  Thee  with  all  my  might, 

While  on  earth  I  yet  must  live ; 
So  shall  I  when  Time  is  o'er, 
Praise  and  love  Thee  evermore. 

Paul  Gerhakdt.     1659. 


iEvust  antr  JJcace-  79 


JOY   AFTER   SORROW. 


COMETH  sunshine  after  rain  ; 
After  mourning,  joy  again  ; 
After  heavy,  bitter  grief 
Dawneth  surely  sweet  relief  • 

And  my  soul,  who  from  her  height 
Sank  to  realms  of  woe  and  night, 
Wingeth  now  to  heaven  her  flight. 

None  was  ever  left  a  prey, 
None  was  ever  turned  away, 
Who  had  given  himself  to  God, 
And  on  Him  had  cast  his  load. 

Who  in  God  his  hope  hath  placed 
Shall  not  life  in  pain  outwaste, 
Fullest  joy  he  yet  shall  taste. 

Though  to-day  may  not  fulfil 
All  thy  hopes,  have  patience  still, 
For  perchance  to-morrow's  sun 
Sees  thy  happier  days  begun  \ 

As  God  willeth,  march  the  hours, 


80  <Stmmm  Ctortta* 

Bringing  joy  at  last  in  showers, 
When  whate'er  we  asked  is  ours. 

Every  sorrow,  every  smart, 

That  the  Eternal  Father's  heart 

Hath  appointed  me  of  yore, 

Or  hath  yet  for  me  in  store, 

As  my  life  flows  on,  I'll  take 
Calmly,  gladly,  for  His  sake, 
No  more  faithless  murmurs  make. 

I  will  meet  distress  and  pain, 

I  will  greet  e'en  Death's  dark  reign, 

I  will  lay  me  in  the  grave, 

With  a  heart  still  glad  and  brave  ; 

Whom  the  Strongest  doth  defend, 
Whom  the  Highest  counts  His  friend, 
Cannot  perish  in  the  end. 

Paul  Gerhardt.     1606-1676. 

O    LORD,    HOW   HAPPY    IS   THE    TIME! 

OLORD,  how  happy  is  the  time 
When  in  Thy  love  I  rest : 
When  from  my  weariness  I  climb 

E'en  to  Thy  tender  breast ! 
The  night  of  sorrow  endeth  there, 

Thy  rays  outshine  the  sun  ; 
And  in  Thy  pardon  and  Thy  care 
The  heaven  of  heavens  is  won. 


Crust  anil  ycacc-  81 

That  is  not  losing  much  of  life 

Which  is  not  losing  Thee  ; 
Thou  art  as  present  in  the  strife 

As  in  the  victory. 
And  when  life's  fiercest  storms  are  sent 

Upon  life's  wildest  sea, 
My  little  bark  is  confident 

Because  it  holdeth  Thee. 

Thou  art  my  strength,  on  Thee  I  lean  ; 

My  heart  Thou  makest  sing, 
And  to  Thy  pastures  green  at  length 

Thy  chosen  flock  wilt  bring. 
To  others  death  seems  dark  and  grim, 

But  not,  O  Lord,  to  me  : 
I  know  Thou  ne'er  forsakest  him 

Who  puts  his  trust  in  Thee. 

Wherefore,  how  happy  is  the  time 

When  in  Thy  love  I  rest ; 
When  from  my  weariness  I  climb 

E'en  to  Thy  tender  breast  ! 
The  night  of  sorrow  endeth  there, 

Thy  rays  outshine  the  sun  ; 
And  in  Thy  pardon  and  Thy  care, 

The  heaven  of  heavens  is  won. 

Wolfgang  Dessler.     1692. 


82  <Surmim  <£orira- 

FATHER   OF    LOVE. 

FATHER  of  Love,  our  Guide  and  Friend, 
Oh,  lead  us  gently  on, 
Until  life's  trial-time  shall  end, 
And  heavenly  peace  be  won  ! 
We  know  not  what  the  path  may  be 

As  yet  by  us  untrod  ; 
But  we  can  trust  our  all  to  Thee, 
Our  Father  and  our  God ! 

If  called,  like  Abraham's  child,  to  climb 

The  hill  of  sacrifice, 
Some  angel  may  be  there  in  time ; 

Deliverance  shall  arise  : 
Or,  if  some  darker  lot  be  good, 

Oh,  teach  us  to  endure 
The  sorrow,  pain,  or  solitude, 

That  makes  the  spirit  pure  ! 

William  Joseph  Irons.     1853. 

THE    SECRET    OF    CONTExNT. 

BE  thou  content  \  be  still  before 
His  face,  at  whose  right  hand  doth  reign 
Fulness  of  joy  for  evermore, 

Without  whom  all  thy  toil  is  vain. 
He  is  thy  living  spring  ;  thy  sun,  whose  rays 
Make  glad  with  life  and  light  thy  dreary  days. 

Be  thou  content. 


2Trust  antt  ^race*  8$ 

In  Him  is  comfort,  light,  and  grace, 

And  changeless  love  beyond  our  thought ; 
The  sorest  pang,  the  worst  disgrace, 
If  He  is  there,  shall  harm  thee  not. 
He  can  lift  off  thy  cross,  and  loose  thy  bands, 
And  calm  thy  fears,  —  nay,  death  is  in  His  hands. 

Be  thou  content. 

Or  art  thou  friendless  and  alone, 

Hast  none  in  whom  thou  canst  confide  ? 
God  careth  for  thee,  lonely  one, 
Comfort  and  help  will  He  provide. 
He  sees  thy  sorrows  and  thy  hidden  grief, 
He  knoweth  when  to  send  thee  quick  relief ; 

Be  thou  content. 

Thy  heart's  unspoken  pain  He  knows, 
Thy  secret  sighs  He  hears  full  well, 
What  to  none  else  thou  darest  disclose, 
To  Him  thou  mayest  with  boldness  tell ; 
He  is  not  far  away,  but  ever  nigh, 
And  answereth  willingly  the  poor  man's  cry, 

Be  thou  content. 

Be  not  o'ermastered  by  thy  pain, 

But  cling  to  God,  thou  shalt  not  fall : 

The  floods  sweep  over  thee  in  vain, 
Thou  yet  shalt  rise  above  them  all ; 


84  cSursum  (JTottra. 

For  when  thy  trial  seems  too  hard  to  bear, 
Lo  !  God,  thy  King,  hath  granted  all  thy  prayer  : 

Be  thou  content. 

Sayst  thou,  I  know  not  how  or  where, 

No  help  I  see  where'er  I  turn  ? 
When  of  all  else  we  most  despair, 
The  riches  of  God's  love  we  learn ; 
When  thou  and  I  His  hand  no  longer  trace, 
He  leads  us  forth  into  a  pleasant  place. 

Be  thou  content. 

We  know  for  us  a  rest  remains, 

When  God  will  give  us  sweet  release 
From  earth  and  all  our  mortal  chains, 
And  turn  our  sufferings  into  peace. 
Sooner  or  later  death  will  surely  come 
To  end  our  sorrows,  and  to  take  us  home. 

Be  thou  content. 

Home  to  the  chosen  ones,  who  here 

Served  their  Lord  faithfully  and  well, 
Who  died  in  peace,  without  a  fear, 
And  there  in  peace  for  ever  dwell ; 
The  Everlasting  is  their  joy  and  stay, 
The  Eternal  Word  Himself  to  them  doth  say, 

Be  thou  content. 

Paul  Gerhardt.     1670. 


Crust  antr  peace.  85 

I,-  EVEN   I,  AM    HE    THAT  COMFORTETH   YOU. 
Isaiah  li.  12. 

SWEET  is  the  solace  of  Thy  love, 
My  heavenly  Friend,  to  me, 
While  through  the  hidden  way  of  faith 

I  journey  home  with  Thee, 
Learning  by  quiet  thankfulness 
As  a  dear  child  to  be. 

Though  from  the  shadow  of  Thy  peace 

My  feet  would  often  stray, 
Thy  mercy  follows  all  my  steps, 

And  will  not  turn  away ; 
Yea,  Thou  wilt  comfort  me  at  last, 

As  none  beneath  Thee  may. 

Oft  in  a  dark  and  lonely  place, 

I  hush  my  hastened  breath, 
To  hear  the  comfortable  words 

Thy  loving  Spirit  saith  : 
And  feel  my  safety  in  Thy  hand 

From  every  kind  of  death. 

Oh  !  there  is  nothing  in  the  world 

To  weigh  against  Thy  will ; 
Even  the  dark  times  I  dread  the  most 

Thy  covenant  fulfil; 
And  when  the  pleasant  morning  dawns 

I  find  Thee  with  me  still. 


86  Sttrattm  <&ortra* 

Then  in  the  secret  of  my  soul, 
Though  hosts  my  peace  invade, 

Though  through  a  waste  and  weary  land 
My  lonely  way  be  made, 

Thou,  even  Thou,  wilt  comfort  me : 
I  need  not  be  afraid. 

Still  in  the  solitary  place 

I  would  awhile  abide, 
Till  with  the  solace  of  Thy  love 

My  heart  is  satisfied ; 
And  all  my  hopes  of  happiness 

Stay  calmly  at  Thy  side. 


Anna  L.  Waring. 


THY  WAY,   NOT    MINE. 

THY  way,  not  mine,  O  Lord, 
However  dark  it  be  ! 
Lead  me  by  Thine  own  hand, 
Choose  out  the  path  for  me. 

Smooth  let  it  be  or  rough, 
It  will  be  still  the  best ; 

Winding  or  straight,  it  leads 
Right  onward  to  Thy  rest. 


STrttgt  autr  \$tatt.  87 

I  dare  not  choose  my  lot ; 

I  would  not,  if  I  might ; 
Choose  Thou  for  me,  my  God ; 

So  shall  I  walk  aright. 

The  kingdom  that  I  seek 

Is  Thine ;  so  let  the  way 
That  leads  to  it  be  Thine  ; 

Else  I  must  surely  stray. 

Take  Thou  my  cup,  and  it 

With  joy  or  sorrow  fill, 
As  best  to  Thee  may  seem  ; 

Choose  Thou  my  good  and  ill ; 

Choose  Thou  for  me  my  friends, 

My  sickness  or  my  health  ; 
Choose  Thou  my  cares  for  me, 

My  poverty  or  wealth. 

Not  mine,  not  mine  the  choice, 

In  things  or  great  or  small  ■ 
Be  Thou  my  guide,  my  strength, 

My  wisdom,  and  my  all  ! 

HORATIUS  BONAR.       1856. 


88  <Stmmm  <£ortra» 


BEHOLD    THE   FOWLS    OF    THE   AIR. 

THE  child  leans  on  its  parent's  breast, 
Leaves  there  its  cares,  and  is  at  rest ; 
The  bird  sits  singing  by  his  nest, 

And  tells  aloud 
His  trust  in  God,  and  so  is  blest 

'Neath  every  cloud. 

He  has  no  store,  he  sows  no  seed  ; 
Yet  sings  aloud,  and  doth  not  heed ; 
By  flowing  stream  or  grassy  mead 

He  sings  to  shame 
Men  who  forget,  in  fear  of  need, 

A  Father's  name. 

The  heart  that  trusts  for  ever  sings, 
And  feels  as  light  as  it  had  wings ; 
A  well  of  peace  within  it  springs  : 

Come  good  or  ill, 
Whate'er  to-day,  to-morrow,  brings, 

It  is  His  will ! 

Isaac  Williams. 

THE   ETERNAL   GOODNESS. 

I  LONG  for  household  voices  gone, 
For  vanished  smiles  I  long ; 
But  God  hath  led  my  dear  ones  on, 
And  He  can  do  no  wrong. 


Crust  antr  peace.  89 

I  know  not  what  the  future  hath 

Of  marvel  or  surprise, 
Assured  alone  that  life  and  death 

His  mercy  underlies. 

And  if  my  heart  and  flesh  are  weak 

To  bear  an  untried  pain, 
The  bruised  reed  He  will  not  break, 

But  strengthen  and  sustain. 

No  offering  of  my  own  I  have, 

Nor  works  my  faith  to  prove  : 
I  can  but  give  the  gifts  He  gave, 

And  plead  His  love  for  love. 

And  so  beside  the  Silent  Sea 

I  wait  the  muffled  oar  ; 
No  harm  from  Him  can  come  to  me 

On  ocean  or  on  shore. 

I  know  not  where  His  islands  lift 

Their  fronded  palms  in  air  ; 
I  only  know  I  cannot  drift 

Beyond  His  love  and  care. 

John  G.  Whittier. 


9o  <Sucsum  <£ortrau 


OUR   DAILY   BREAD. 

DAY  by  day  the  manna  fell  \ 
Oh  to  learn  this  lesson  well ! 
Still  by  constant  mercy  fed, 
Give  me,  Lord,  my  daily  bread. 

"  Day  by  day,"  the  promise  reads  ; 
Daily  strength  for  daily  needs  : 
Cast  foreboding  fears  away ; 
Take  the  manna  of  to-day. 

Lord,  my  times  are  in  Thy  hand  ; 
All  my  sanguine  hopes  have  planned 
To  Thy  wisdom  I  resign, 
And  would  make  Thy  purpose  mine. 

Thou  my  daily  task  shalt  give  ; 
Day  by  day  to  Thee  I  live : 
So  shall  added  years  fulfil, 
Not  my  own,  my  Father's  will. 

Oh  to  live  exempt  from  care, 
By  the  energy  of  prayer ; 
Strong  in  faith,  with  mind  subdued, 
Yet  elate  with  gratitude  ! 


JOSIAH    CoNDER.      1836. 


3Trust  antr  pracr-  91 


"THE   LORD   IS   MY  PORTION,  SAITH  MY  SOUL; 
THEREFORE   WILL    I    HOPE    IN    HIM." 

Lamentations  hi.  24. 

MY  heart  is  resting,  O  my  God,  — 
I  will  give  thanks  and  sing ; 
My  heart  is  at  the  secret  source 

Of  every  precious  thing. 
Now  the  frail  vessel  Thou  hast  made 

No  hand  but  Thine  shall  fill  ; 
For  the  waters  of  the  earth  have  failed, 
And  I  am  thirsty  still.  • 

I  thirst  for  springs  of  heavenly  life, 

And  here  all  day  they  rise  ; 
I  seek  the  treasure  of  Thy  love, 

And  close  at  hand  it  lies. 
And  a  new  song  is  in  my  mouth, 

To  long-loved  music  set  : 
Glory  to  Thee  for  all  the  grace 

I  have  not  tasted  yet. 

Glory  to  Thee  for  strength  withheld, 

For  want  and  weakness  known, 
And  the  fear  that  sends  me  to  Thy  breast 

For  what  is  most  my  own. 


92  <Sttnmm  <&orttau 

There  is  a  certainty  of  love 

That  sets  my  heart  at  rest,  — 
A  calm  assurance  for  to-day 

That  to  be  poor  is  best. 

Mine  be  the  reverent,  listening  love, 

That  waits  all  day  on  Thee, 
With  the  service  of  a  watchful  heart 

Which  no  one  else  can  see ; 
The  faith  that,  in  a  hidden  way, 

No  other  eye  may  know, 
Finds  all  its  daily  work  prepared, 

And  loves  to  have  it  so. 

Anna  L.  Waring. 

MY   TIMES    ARE    IN    THY   HAND. 

MY  times  are  in  Thy  hand, 
My  God,  I  wish  them  there  ; 
My  life,  my  friends,  my  soul,  I  leave 
Entirely  to  Thy  care. 

My  times  are  in  Thy  hand, 

Whatever  they  may  be  ; 
Pleasing  or  painful,  dark  or  bright, 

As  best  may  seem  to  Thee. 

My  times  are  in  Thy  hand, 

Why  should  I  doubt  or  fear  ? 
A  Father's  hand  will  never  cause 

His  child  a  needless  tear. 

Anonymous. 


JZHrust  antr  peace*  93 


A   GERMAN   TRUST    SONG. 

JUST  as  God  leads  me,  I  would  go  : 
I  would  not  ask  to  choose  my  way ; 
Content  with  what  he  will  bestow, 
Assured  he  will  not  let  me  stray. 
So  as  he  leads,  my  path  I  make, 
And  step  by  step  I  gladly  take, 
A  child  in  him  confiding. 

Just  as  God  leads  I  am  content : 

I  rest  me  calmly  in  His  hands  ; 
That  which  He  has  decreed  and  sent  — 
That  which  His  will  for  me  commands  — 
I  would  that  He  should  all  fulfil ; 
That  I  should  do  His  gracious  will 
In  living  or  in  dying. 

Just  as  God  leads  me  I  abide 

In  faith,  in  hope,  in  suffering  true ; 
His  strength  is  ever  by  my  side  — 
Can  aught  my  hold  on  Him  undo  ? 
I  hold  me  firm  in  patience,  knowing 
That  God  my  life  is  still  bestowing  — 
The  best  in  kindness  sending. 

Just  as  God  leads,  I  onward  go, 
Oft  amid  thorns  and  briers  keen ; 


94  Sttrsum  erortra- 

God  does  not  yet  His  guidance  show ; 
But  in  the  end  it  shall  be  seen 
How,  by  a  loving  Father's  will, 
Faithful  and  true,  He  leads  me  still. 

Lampertus.     1625. 

LIFE. 

I  MADE  a  posy,  while  the  day  ran  by : 
Here  will  I  smell  my  remnant  out,  and  tie 
My  life  within  this  band. 
But  time  did  beckon  to  the  flowers,  and  they 
By  noon  most  cunningly  did  steal  away, 

And  withered  in  my  hand. 

My  hand  was  next  to  them,  and  then  my  heart ; 
I  took,  without  more  thinking,  in  good  part 

Time's  gentle  admonition ; 
Who  did  so  sweetly  death's  sad  taste  convey, 
Making  my  mind  to  smell  my  fatal  day, 

Yet  sugaring  the  suspicion. 

Farewell  dear  flowers,  sweetly  your  time  ye  spent, 
Fit,  while  ye  lived,  for  smell  or  ornament ; 

And,  after  death,  for  cures. 
I  follow  straight  without  complaints  or  grief, 
Since  if  my  scent  be  good,  I  care  not  if 

It  be  as  short  as  yours. 

George  Herbert. 


3Trust  autr  JJeace-  95 

GOD    OF    MY   LIFE. 

GOD  of  my  life,  whose  gracious  power 
Through  various  deaths  my  soul  hath  led, 
Or  turned  aside  the  fatal  hour, 
Or  lifted  up  my  sinking  head  : 

In  all  my  ways  Thy  hand  I  own, 

Thy  ruling  Providence  I  see  : 
Oh  !  help  me  still  my  course  to  run, 

And  still  direct  my  paths  to  Thee. 

On  Thee  my  helpless  soul  is  cast, 

And  looks  again  Thy  grace  to  prove  : 

I  call  to  mind  the  wonders  past, 

The  countless  wonders  of  Thy  love. 

Whither,  oh  !  whither  should  I  fly, 

But  to  my  loving  Father's  breast  ? 
Secure  within  Thine  arms  to  lie, 

And  safe  beneath  Thy  wings  to  rest ! 

I  have  no  might  to  oppose  the  foe ; 

But  everlasting  strength  is  Thine. 
Show  me  the  way  that  I  should  go, 

Show  me  the  path  I  should  decline. 

Which  shall  I  leave,  and  which  pursue  ? 

Thou  only  mine  Adviser  be. 
My  God,  I  know  not  what  to  do  ; 

But,  oh  !   mine  eyes  are  fixed  on  Thee. 


96  Sursum  CTorTra- 

Foolish  and  impotent  and  blind, 
Lead  me  a  way  I  have  not  known  : 

Bring  me  where  I  my  heaven  may  find,  — 
The  heaven  of  loving  Thee  alone. 

Enlarge  my  heart  to  make  Thee  room  ; 

Enter,  and  in  me  ever  stay ; 
The  crooked  then  shall  straight  become  ; 

The  darkness  shall  be  lost  in  day. 

Charles  Wesley.     1740. 


PEACE,    TROUBLED    SOUL. 

PEACE,  troubled  soul !  Thou  need'st  not  fear, 
Thy  great  Protector  still  is  near ; 
He  who  has  fed,  will  feed  thee  still ; 
Be  calm  and  sink  into  His  will ; 
Who  hears  the  ravens  when  they  cry 
Will  all  His  children's  needs  supply. 

Peace,  doubting  heart !  distrust  not  God  ; 
Though  dark  the  valley,  steep  the  way, 
Still  lean  upon  His  staff  and  rod, 
Still  make  His  providence  thy  stay  : 
A  sudden  calm  thy  soul  shall  fill ;  — 
,rPis  God  who  whispers,  Peace,  be  still  ! 

Hymns  of  the  Spirit. 


Crust  antr  ^eace-  97 


THE    KINGDOM    OF   GOD. 

T  SAY  to  thee,  —  do  thou  repeat 
-*-     To  the  first  man  thou  mayest  meet 
In  lane,  highway,  or  open  street, — 

That  he  and  we  and  all  men  move 

Under  a  canopy  of  love, 

As  broad  as  the  blue  sky  above  ; 

That  doubt  and  trouble,  fear  and  pain, 
And  anguish,  all  are  shadows  vain, 
That  death  itself  shall  not  remain ; 

That  weary  deserts  we  may  tread, 
A  dreary  labyrinth  may  thread, 
Through  dark  ways  underground  be  led; 

Yet,  if  we  will  one  Guide  obey, 
The  dreariest  path,  the  darkest  way 
Shall  issue  out  in  heavenly  day ; 

And  we,  on  divers  shores  now  cast, 
Shall  meet,  our  perilous  voyage  past, 
All  in  our  Father's  house  at  last. 

And,  ere  thou  leave  him,  say  thou  this, 
Yet  one  word  more  :  They  only  miss 
The  winning  of  that  final  bliss, 
7 


98  Suramin  Gtortta- 

Who  will  not  count  it  true  that  Love, 
Blessing,  not  cursing,  rules  above, 
And  that  in  it  we  live  and  move. 

And  one  thing  further  make  him  know, 
That  to  believe  these  things  are  so, 
This  firm  faith  never  to  forego, 

Despite  of  all  that  seems  at  strife 
With  blessing,  all  with  curses  rife, 
That  this  is  blessing,  this  is  life. 


R.  C  Trench. 


A  THANKSGIVING. 

LORD,  for  the  erring  thought 
Not  into  evil  wrought ; 
Lord,  for  the  wicked  will 
Betrayed  and  baffled  still ; 
For  the  heart  from  itself  kept, 
Our  Thanksgiving  accept. 

For  ignorant  hopes  that  were 
Broken  to  our  blind  prayer ; 
For  pain,  death,  sorrow,  sent 
Unto  our  chastisement  \ 
For  all  loss  of  seeming  good, 
Quicken  our  gratitude ! 


William  D.  Howells. 


3Ccust  antr  peace.  99 


A   SONG    OF   TRUST. 

OLOVE  Divine,  of  all  that  is 
The  sweetest  still  and  best, 
Fain  would  I  come  and  rest  to-night 
Upon  Thy  tender  breast  \ 

I  pray  Thee  turn  me  not  away, 

For,  sinful  though  I  be, 
Thou  knowest  every  thing  I  need, 

And  all  my  need  of  Thee. 

I  would  not  have  Thee  otherwise 

Than  what  Thou  ever  art ; 
Be  still  Thyself,  and  then  I  know 

We  cannot  live  apart. 

But  still  Thy  love  will  beckon  me, 
And  still  Thy  strength  will  come, 

In  many  ways  to  bear  me  up 
And  bring  me  to  my  home. 

And  Thou  wilt  hear  the  thought  I  mean, 

And  not  the  words  I  say ; 
Wilt  hear  the  thanks  among  the  words 

That  only  seem  to  pray ; 

As  if  Thou  wert  not  always  good, 

As  if  Thy  loving  care 
Could  ever  miss  me  in  the  midst 

Of  this  Thy  temple  fair. 


ioo  Sursttm  (ftortrau 

For,  if  I  ever  doubted  Thee, 
How  could  I  any  more  ! 

This  very  night  my  tossing  bark 
Has  reached  the  happy  shore  ; 

And  still,  for  all  my  sighs,  my  heart 
Has  sung  itself  to  rest, 

O  Love  Divine,  most  far  and  near, 
Upon  Thy  tender  breast. 


John  W.  Chadwick. 


IN  THEE    I    TRUST. 

IN  Thee  I  place  my  trust, 
On  Thee  I  calmly  rest ; 
I  know  Thee  good,  I  know  Thee  just, 
And  count  Thy  choice  the  best. 

Whate'er  events  betide, 
Thy  will  they  all  perform  ; 
Safe  in  Thy  breast  my  head  I  hide, 
Nor  fear  the  coming  storm. 

Let  good  or  ill  befall, 
It  must  be  good  for  me  ; 
Secure  of  having  Thee  in  all, 
Of  having  all  in  Thee. 

Henry  F.  Lyte.     1834. 


KxuHt  antr  peace.  101 

"MY  TIMES    ARE    IN    THY    HAND." 
Psalm  xxxi.  15. 

FATHER,  I  know  that  all  my  life 
Is  portioned  out  for  me, 
And  the  changes  that  are  sure  to  come, 

I  do  not  fear  to  see  ; 
But  I  ask  Thee  for  a  present  mind 
Intent  on  pleasing  Thee. 

I  ask  Thee  for  a  thoughtful  love, 

Through  constant  watching  wise, 
To  meet  the  glad  with  joyful  smiles, 

And  to  wipe  the  weeping  eyes ; 
And  a  heart  at  leisure  from  itself, 

To  soothe  and  sympathize. 

I  would  not  have  the  restless  will 

That  hurries  to  and  fro, 
Seeking  for  some  great  thing  to  do, 

Or  secret  thing  to  know  • 
I  would  be  treated  as  a  child, 

And  guided  where  I  go. 

Wherever  in  the  world  I  am, 

In  whatsoe'er  estate, 
I  have  a  fellowship  with  hearts 

To  keep  and  cultivate  ; 
And  a  work  of  lowly  love  to  do 

For  the  Lord  on  whom  I  wait. 


102  Sttraum  <£ortra* 

So  I  ask  Thee  for  the  daily  strength, 

To  none  that  ask  denied, 
And  a  mind  to  blend  with  outward  life 

While  keeping  at  Thy  side ; 
Content  to  fill  a  little  space, 

If  Thou  be  glorified. 

And  if  some  things  I  do  not  ask, 

In  my  cup  of  blessing  be, 
I  would  have  my  spirit  filled  the  more 

With  grateful  love  to  Thee,  — 
More  careful,  —  not  to  serve  Thee  much, 

But  to  please  Thee  perfectly. 

There  are  briers  besetting  every  path, 

That  call  for  patient  care ; 
There  is  a  cross  in  every  lot, 

And  an  earnest  need  for  prayer ; 
But  a  lowly  heart  that  leans  on  Thee 

Is  happy  anywhere. 

In  a  service  which  Thy  will  appoints, 

There  are  no  bonds  for  me  ; 
For  my  inmost  heart  is  taught  "  the  truth  " 

That  makes  Thy  children  "  free  ; " 
And  a  life  of  self-renouncing  love 

Is  a  life  of  liberty. 


Anna  L.  Waring. 


Crust  antr  peace.  103 


THE   WISH    OF   TO-DAY. 

I  ASK  not  now  for  gold  to  gild 
With  mocking  shine  a  weary  frame  ; 
The  yearning  of  the  mind  is  stilled,  — 
I  ask  not  now  for  Fame. 

A  rose-cloud,  dimly  seen  above, 

Melting  in  heaven's  blue  depths  away, 

Oh  !  sweet,  fond  dream  of  human  Love  ! 
For  thee  I  may  not  pray. 

But,  bowed  in  lowliness  of  mind, 

I  make  my  humble  wishes  known,  — 
I  only  ask  a  will  resigned, 

0  Father,  to  Thine  own  ! 

To-day,  beneath  Thy  chastening  eye, 

1  crave  alone  for  peace  and  rest  ; 
Submissive  in  Thy  hand  to  lie, 

And  feel  that  it  is  best. 

A  marvel  seems  the  Universe, 
A  miracle  our  Life  and  Death  ; 

A  mystery  which  I  cannot  pierce, 
Around,  above,  beneath. 

In  vain  I  task  my  aching  brain  ; 

In  vain  the  sage's  thought  I  scan  ; 
I  only  feel  how  weak  and  vain, 

How  poor  and  blind,  is  man  ! 


104  Sttnmm  ©ortta* 

And  now  my  spirit  sighs  for  home, 
And  longs  for  light  whereby  to  see, 

And,  like  a  weary  child,  would  come, 
O  Father,  unto  Thee  ! 

Though  oft,  like  letters  traced  on  sand, 
My  weak  resolves  have  passed  away, 

In  mercy  lend  Thy  helping  hand 
Unto  my  prayer  to-day. 


John  G.  Whittier. 


RECONCILIATION. 

COME,  O  ye  sinners,  to  the  Lord, 
In  Christ  to  paradise  restored : 
His  proffered  benefits  embrace,  — 
The  plenitude  of  gospel  grace  :  — 

The  guiltless  shame,  the  sweet  distress, 

The  unutterable  tenderness  ; 

The  genuine,  meek  humility ; 

The  wonder,  why  such  love  to  me  :  — 

The  o'erwhelming  power  of  saving  grace, 
The  sight  that  veils  the  seraph's  face  ; 
The  speechless  awe  that  dares  not  move, 
And  all  the  silent  heaven  of  love. 

Ch.kles  Wesley. 


STrust  antr  J|cace-  105 


A    PRAYER   FOR    REST. 

GIVE  rest,  O  God,  to  me  ; 
The  power  to  lean  on  Thee 
In  sweet  repose. 
Give  rest  to  weary  thought, 
In  trust,  in  doubt,  in  aught 
Assayed,  let  truth  be  sought 
From  Him  who  knows. 

Give  rest,  O  God,  in  action, 
To  wait  on  Thy  correction, 

Devoid  of  fear. 
Faithful  and  strong  to  do, 
Hopeful  whate'er  the  view, 
Since  I  have  naught  to  rue 

If  Thou  art  near. 

Give  rest,  O  God,  in  sorrow, 
Give  peace  that  need  not  borrow 

From  joys  to  be, 
That  always  finds  Thee  nearest, 
Thy  care  and  love  the  clearest, 
'Mid  loss  of  things  the  dearest, 

Can  I  lose  Thee  ? 

Give  rest,  O  God,  from  care, 
The  teasing,  hourly  snare 


106  Sttnmm  <£ortra* 

Of  all  my  thought. 
Why  fear  that  given  by  Thee  ? 
Why  lay  the  load  on  me  ? 
Why  take  the  work  from  Thee, 

Since  Thou  hast  wrought  ? 

Give  rest,  O  God,  in  love ; 
The  thought  Thou  art  above 

Brings  comfort  blest. 
We  know  Thee  ever  near, 
We  know  there's  naught  to  fear, 
We  know  that  now  and  here 

Are  peace  and  rest. 


Independent. 


"HE  SHALL  GIVE  HIS  ANGELS  CHARGE  OVER 
THEE." 

THEY  who  on  the  Lord  rely 
Safely  dwell,  though  danger's  nigh ; 
Lo  !  His  sheltering  wings  are  spread 
O'er  each  faithful  servant's  head. 

When  they  wake  or  when  they  sleep, 
Angel  guards  their  vigils  keep  ; 
Death  and  danger  may  be  near, 
Faith  and  Love  have  nought  to  fear. 

Spirit  of  the  Psalms. 


JJTrust  antr  peace.  107 


THE   SMOKING    FLAX    AND    BRUISED    REED. 

WHEN  evening  choirs  the  praises  hymned 
In  Zion's  courts  of  old, 
The  High  Priest  walked  his  round  and  trimmed 

The  shining  lamp  of  gold  ; 
And  if,  perchance,  some  flame  burned  low, 

With  fresh  oil  vainly  drenched, 
He  cleansed  it  from  its  socket,  so 
The  smoking  flax  was  quenched. 

But  Thou,  who  walkest,  Priest  Most  High  ! 

Thy  golden  lamps  among, 
What  things  are  weak,  and  near  to  die, 

Thou  makest  fresh  and  strong  ; 
Thou  breathest  on  the  trembling  spark, 

That  else  would  soon  expire, 
And  swift  it  shoots  up  through  the  dark 

A  brilliant  spear  of  fire. 

The  shepherd,  that  to  stream  and  shade 

Withdrew  his  flock  at  noon, 
On  reedy  stop  soft  music  made, 

In  many  a  pastoral  tune  ; 
And  if,  perchance,  the  reed  were  crushed, 

It  could  not  more  be  used,  — 
Its  mellow  music  marred  jmel  hushed, 

He  brake  it,  when  so  bruised. 


io8  Sttrsum  Portia* 

But  Thou,  good  Shepherd,  who  dost  feed 

Thy  flock  in  pastures  green, 
Thou  dost  not  break  the  bruised  reed 

That  sorely  crushed  hath  been  ; 
The  heart  that  dumb  in  anguish  lies, 

Or  yields  but  notes  of  woe, 
Thou  dost  retune  to  harmonies 

More  rich  than  angels  know ! 

Lord,  once  my  love  was  all  ablaze, 

But  now  it  burns  so  dim  ! 
My  life  was  praise,  but  now  my  days 

Make  a  poor,  broken  hymn  ; 
Yet  ne'er  by  Thee  am  I  forgot, 

But  helped  in  deepest  need  : 
The  smoking  flax  Thou  quenchest  not, 

Nor  break'st  the  bruised  reed. 

Family  Treasury. 


LIFE'S   ANSWER. 

I  KNOW  not  if  or  dark  or  bright 
Shall  be  my  lot : 
If  that  wherein  my  hopes  delight 
Be  best  or  not. 


Crust  an)  peace-  109 

It  may  be  mine  to  drag  for  years 

Toil's  heavy  chain  : 
Or  day  and  night  my  meat  be  tears 

On  bed  of  pain. 

Dear  faces  may  surround  my  hearth 

With  smiles  and  glee  : 
Or  I  may  dwell  alone,  and  mirth 

Be  strange  to  me. 

My  bark  is  wafted  to  the  strand 

By  breath  divine  : 
And  on  the  helm  there  rests  a  hand 

Other  than  mine. 

One  who  has  known  in  storms  to  sail 

I  have  on  board  : 
Above  the  raving  of  the  gale 

I  hear  my  Lord. 

He  holds  me  when  the  billows  smite, 

I  shall  not  fall  : 
If  sharp,  'tis  short  ;  if  long,  'tis  light ; 

He  tempers  all. 

Safe  to  the  land,  —  safe  to  the  land, 

The  end  is  this  : 
And  then  with  Him  go  hand  in  hand 

Far  into  bliss. 

Henry  A l ford. 


no  <Sunmm  (ftortra- 


THE    SECRET   PLACE    OF    THE    MOST    HIGH. 

"  Thou  wilt  keep  him  in  perfect  peace  whose  mind  is  stayed  on  Thee: 
because  he  trusteth  in  Thee"  —  Isa.  xxvi.  3. 

OH,  this  is  blessing,  this  is  rest ! 
Into  Thine  arms,  O  Lord,  I  flee  ; 
I  hide  me  in  Thy  faithful  breast, 
And  pour  out  all  my  soul  to  Thee  ; 
And  hushing  every  adverse  sound, 
Songs  of  defence  my  soul  surround, 
As  if  all  saints  encamped  about 
One  trusting  heart  pursued  by  doubt. 

And  oh,  how  solemn,  yet  how  sweet, 
Their  one  assured,  persuasive  strain  ! 
"  The  Lord  of  Hosts  is  thy  retreat, 
Still  in  His  hand  thy  times  remain,  — 
And  He  will  prove  His  right  to  reign 
O'er  all  things  that  concern  thy  heart." 

0  tenderness,  O  truth  divine  ! 
Lord,  I  am  altogether  Thine. 

1  have  bowed  down,  I  need  not  flee,  — 
Peace,  peace  is  mine  in  trusting  Thee. 

And  now  I  count  supremely  kind 
The  rule  that  once  I  thought  severe  ; 
And  precious  to  my  altered  mind 
At  length  Thy  least  reproofs  appear. 


Crust  antr  ^eacc- 


ii  i 


Now,  to  the  love  that  casts  out  fear 
Mercy  and  truth  indeed  seem  one  \ 
Why  should  I  hold  my  ease  so  dear  ? 
The  work  of  training  must  be  done. 
I  must  be  taught  what  I  would  know, 
I  must  be  led  where  I  would  go, 
And  all  the  rest  ordained  for  me, 
Till  that  which  is  not  seen  I  see 
Is  to  be  found  in  trusting:  Thee. 


Anna  L.  Waring. 


HYMN    OF    TRUST. 


f~\   LOVE  Divine,  that  stooped  to  share 
^^     Our  sharpest  pang,  our  bitterest  tear, 
On  Thee  we  cast  each  earth-born  care, 

We  smile  at  pain  while  Thou  art  near ! 
Though  long  the  weary  way  we  tread, 

And  sorrow  crown  each  lingering  year, 
No  path  we  shun,  no  darkness  dread, 

Our  hearts  still  whispering,  Thou  art  near! 

When  drooping  pleasure  turns  to  grief, 
And  trembling  faith  is  changed  to  fear, 

The  murmuring  wind,  the  quivering  leaf, 
Shall  softly  tell  us,  Thou  art  near ! 

On  Thee  we  fling  our  burdening  woe, 

O  Love  Divine,  for  ever  dear  ; 
Content  to  suffer  while  we  know, 

Living  and  dying,  Thou  art  near  !         0.  w.  Holmbs. 


U2  Sunmm  Cortia* 


THE    DIVINE    WHISPER. 

LATE  on  me,  weeping,  did  this  whisper  fall  : 
"  Dear  child,  there  is  no  need  to  weep  at  all ! 
Why  go  about  to  grieve  and  to  despair  ? 
Why  weep  now  through  thy  Future's  eyes,  and  bear 
In  vain  to-day  to-morrow's  load  of  care  ? 

"  Mine  is  thy  welfare.     Yea,  the  storms  fulfil, 
On  those  who  love  me,  none  but  my  decrees. 
Lightning  shall  not  strike  thee  against  my  will ; 
And  I,  thy  God,  can  save  thee,  when  I  please, 
From  quaking  earth,  and  the  devouring  seas. 

"  Why  be  so  dull,  so  slow  to  understand  ? 
The  more  thou  trustest  me,  the  more  will  grow 
My  love  ;  and  thou,  a  jewel  in  my  hand, 
Shalt  richer  be  ;  whence  thou  canst  never  go 
So  softly  slipping  but  that  I  shall  know. 

"  If  thou  dost  seem  to  fall ;  if  griefs  and  pains 
And  death  prevail ;  for  thee  there  yet  remains 
My  Love,  which  sent  them,  and  which  surely  will 
Thee  reinstate,  where  thou  shalt  thenceforth  fill 
A  place  still  warmer,  and  more  steadfast  still." 


Crust  antr  }3cacc-  113 

"Father  !  "  I  said,  "  I  do  accept  Thy  word, 

To  perfect  trust  in  Thee  now  am  I  stirred, 

By  the  dear,  gracious  saying  I  have  heard  :  " 

And  having  said  thus,  fell  a  peace  so  deep, 

What  could  I  do,  dear  friends  ?  what  do,  but  weep  ? 

Henry  Septimus  Sutton.     1S5-, 

PSALM    CXXXI. 

QUIET,  Lord,  my  froward  heart, 
Make  me  teachable  and  mild, 
Upright,  simple,  free  from  art, 

Make  me  as  a  weaned  child  ; 
From  distrust  and  envy  free, 
Pleased  with  all  that  pleases  Thee. 

What  Thou  shalt  to-day  provide, 

Let  me  as  a  child  receive  ; 
What  to-morrow  may  betide, 

Calmly  to  Thy  wisdom  leave  : 
'Tis  enough  that  Thou  wilt  care  ; 
Why  should  I  the  burden  bear  ? 

As  a  little  child  relies 

On  a  care  beyond  his  own, 
Knows  he's  neither  strong  nor  wise, 

Fears  to  stir  a  step  alone  ; 
Let  me  thus  with  Thee  abide, 
As  my  Father,  Guard,  and  Guide. 

John    NEWTON,      i  jj  > 


ii4  cSursum  <&ortra* 

RESTING    IN    GOD. 
"  Rdst  in  the  Lord,  and  wait  patiently  for  Him.'''' 

SINCE  thy  Father's  arm  sustains  thee, 
Peaceful  be ; 
When  a  chastening  hand  restrains  thee, 

It  is  He. 
Know  His  love  in  full  completeness 
Fills  the  measure  of  thy  weakness  ; 
If  He  wound  thy  spirit  sore, 
Trust  Him  more. 

Without  murmur,  uncomplaining, 

In  His  hand 
Leave  whatever  things  thou  canst  not 

Understand. 
Though  the  world  thy  folly  spurneth, 
From  thy  faith  in  pity  turneth, 
Peace  thy  inmost  soul  shall  fill, 

Lying  still. 

Like  an  infant,  if  thou  thinkest 

Thou  canst  stand, 
Childlike,  proudly  pushing  back 

The  offered  hand,  — 
Courage  soon  is  changed  to  fear, 
Strength  doth  feebleness  appear  \ 
In  His  love  if  thou  abide, 

He  will  guide. 


STtust  antr  ^tatt.  115 

Fearest  sometimes  that  thy  Father 

Hath  forgot  ? 
When  the  clouds  around  thee  gather, 

Doubt  -Him  not. 
Always  hath  the  daylight  broken,  — 
Always  hath  He  comfort  spoken, — 
Better  hath  He  been  for  years 

Than  thy  fears. 

Therefore,  whatsoe'er  betideth, 

Night  or  day,  — 
Know  His  love  for  thee  provideth 

Good  alway. 
Crown  of  sorrow  gladly  take, 
Grateful  wear  it  for  His  sake  ; 
Sweetly  bending  to  His  will, 

Lying  still. 

To  His  own  thy  Father  giveth 

Daily  strength  ; 
To  each  troubled  soul  that  liveth, 

Peace  at  length. 
Weakest  lambs  have  largest  share 
Of  this  tender  Shepherd's  care  ; 
Ask  Him  not,  then,  "  when  ?  "  or  "  how  ?  " 

Only  bow. 

Charles  Rudolph  Hagenbach. 
Tr.  by  H.  A.  P. 


u6  Sursum  (Kortra. 


MY   PSALM. 

I   MOURN  no  more  my  vanished  years  : 
Beneath  a  tender  rain, 
An  April  rain  of  smiles  and  tears, 
My  heart  is  young  again. 

The  west  winds  blow,  and,  singing  low, 

I  hear  the  glad  streams  run  ; 
The  windows  of  my  soul  I  throw 

Wide  open  to  the  sun. 

No  longer  forward  nor  behind 

I  look  In  hope  or  fear  ; 
But,  grateful,  take  the  good  I  find,  — 

The  best  of  now  and  here. 

I  plough  no  more  a  desert  land, 

To  harvest  weed  and  tare  ; 
The  manna  dropping  from  God's  hand 

Rebukes  my  painful  care. 

I  break  my  pilgrim  staff,  —  I  lay 

Aside  the  toiling  oar ; 
The  angel  sought  so  far  away 

I  welcome  at  my  door. 

All  as  God  wills,  who  wisely  heeds 

To  give  or  to  withhold, 
And  knoweth  more  of  all  my  needs 

Than  all  my  prayers  have  told  ! 


STruat  antr  J^racc-  117 

Enough  that  blessings  undeserved 

Have  marked  my  erring  track  ;  — 
That  wheresoe'er  my  feet  have  swerved, 

His  chastening  turned  me  back  ;  — 

That  more  and  more  a  Providence 

Of  love  is  understood, 
Making  the  springs  of  time  and  sense 

Sweet  with  eternal  good  ;  — 

That  death  seems  but  a  covered  way, 

Which  opens  into  light, 
Wherein  no  blinded  child  can  stray 

Beyond  the  Father's  sight ; 

That  care  and  trial  seem  at  last, 

Through  Memory's  sunset  air, 
Like  mountain-ranges  overpast, 

In  purple  distance  fair  ;  — 

That  all  the  jarring  notes  of  life 

Seem  blending  in  a  psalm, 
And  all  the  angles  of  its  strife 

Slow  rounding  into  calm. 

And  so  the  shadows  fall  apart, 

And  so  the  west  winds  play  ; 
And  all  the  windows  of  my  heart 

I  open  to  the  clay. 

John   G.  Whittier. 


n8  <Surmtm  Ctortra. 


THE    LOVE    OF    GOD. 

THOU  Grace  Divine,  encircling  all, 
A  soundless,  shoreless  sea ! 
Wherein  at  last  our  souls  must  fall, 
O  Love  of  God  most  free ! 

When  over  dizzy  heights  we  go, 
One  soft  hand  blinds  our  eyes  ; 

The  other  leads  us,  safe  and  slow, 
O  Love  of  God  most  wise ! 

And  though  we  turn  us  from  Thy  face, 

And  wander  wide  and  long, 
Thou  hold'st  us  still  in  Thine  embrace, 

O  Love  of  God  most  strong ! 

The  saddened  heart,  the  restless  soul, 
The  toil-worn  frame  and  mind, 

Alike  confess  Thy  sweet  control, 
O  Love  of  God  most  kind ! 

But  not  alone  Thy  care  we  claim, 

Our  wayward  steps  to  win ; 
We  know  Thee  by  a  dearer  name, 

O  Love  of  God  within  ! 

And  filled  and  quickened  by  Thy  breath, 
Our  souls  are  strong  and  free 

To  rise  o'er  sin  and  fear  and  death, 
O  Love  of  God,  to  Thee ! 


Eliza  Scudder. 


Crust  antr  ^eace-  119 

CASTING  ALL  YOUR  CARE  UPON  HIM; 
FOR  HE  CARETH  FOR  YOU." 

OLORD  !  how  happy  should  we  be 
If  we  could  cast  our  care  on  Thee, 
If  we  from  self  could  rest ; 
And  feel  at  heart  that  One  above, 
In  perfect  wisdom,  perfect  love, 
Is  working  for  the  best. 

How  far  from  this  our  daily  life  ! 
How  oft  disturbed  by  anxious  strife, 

By  sudden  wild  alarms  ; 
Oh,  could  we  but  relinquish  all 
Our  earthly  props,  and  simply  fall 

On  Thine  almighty  arms  ! 

Could  we  but  kneel  and  cast  our  load, 
E'en  while  we  pray,  upon  our  God, 

Then  rise  with  lightened  cheer  ; 
Sure  that  the  Father,  who  is  nigh 
To  still  the  famished  ravens'  cry, 

Will  hear,  in  that  we  fear  ! 

We  cannot  trust  Him  as  we  should  ; 
So  chafes  weak  nature's  restless  mood 

To  cast  its  peace  away ; 
But  birds  and  flowerets  round  us  preach, 
All,  all  the  present  evil  teach 

Sufficient  for  the  day. 


120  Sunmm  <£ortra- 

Lord,  make  these  faithless  hearts  of  ours 
Such  lesson  learn  from  birds  and  flowers  ; 

Make  them  from  self  to  cease  ; 
Leave  all  things  to  a  Father's  will, 
And  taste,  before  Him  lying  still, 

E'en  in  affliction,  peace. 


Joseph  Ansttck.     1836. 


NINETY-FIRST   PSALM. 

OH,  how  safe,  how  happy  he, 
Lord  of  hosts,  who  dwells  with  Thee ! 
Sheltered  'neath  almighty  wings, 
Guarded  by  the  King  of  kings  ! 
Thou  my  hope,  my  refuge  art, 
Touch  with  grace  my  rebel  heart, 
Draw  me  home  unto  Thy  breast, 
Give  me  there  eternal  rest ! 

Hark  the  voice  of  Love  divine  ! 
"  Fear  not,  trembler,  thou  art  Mine  ! 
Fear  not,  I  am  at  thy  side, 
Strong  to  succour,  sure  to  guide. 
Call  on  Me  in  want  or  woe, 
I  will  keep  thee  here  below; 
And  thy  day  of  conflict  past, 
Bear  thee  to  Myself  at  last !  " 

Spirit  of  the  Psalms. 


I 


Evuut  antr  ^eacr*  121 

LOOKING    UNTO  GOD. 
"  God^s  hand  in  all  things^  and  all  things  in  God's  hand" 

LOOK  to  Thee  in  every  need, 

And  never  look  in  vain  ; 
I  feel  Thy  touch,  Eternal  Love, 

And  all  is  well  again  ; 
The  thought  of  Thee  is  mightier  far 
Than  sin  and  pain  and  sorrow  are. 

Discouraged  in  the  work  of  life, 

Disheartened  by  its  load, 
Shamed  by  its  failures  or  its  fears, 

I  sink  beside  the  road  ;  — 
But  let  me  only  think  of  Thee, 
And  then  new  heart  springs  up  in  me. 

Thy  calmness  bends  serene  above, 

My  restlessness  to  still ; 
Around  me  flows  Thy  quickening  life, 

To  nerve  my  faltering  will ; 
Thy  presence  fills  my  solitude  ; 
Thy  providence  turns  all  to  good. 

Embosomed  deep  in  Thy  dear  love, 

Held  in  Thy  law  I  stand  ; 
Thy  hand  in  all  things  I  behold, 

And  all  things  in  Thy  hand  ; 
Thou  lead  est  me  by  unsought  ways, 
And  turn'st  my  mourning  into  praise. 

Sa.v.  I  LOW. 


i22  Sttrsum  (ftortra* 


PEACE. 

THOU  art  with  me,  O  my  Father, 
At  early  dawn  of  day  \ 
It  is  Thy  glory  brighteneth 

The  upward  streaming  ray  : 
It  calls  me  by  its  loveliness 

To  rise  and  worship  Thee  : 
I  feel  Thy  glorious  presence, 
Thy  face  I  may  not  see. 

Thou  art  with  me,  O  my  Father, 

In  the  changing  scenes  of  life, 
In  loneliness  of  spirit, 

And  in  weariness  of  strife  ; 
My  sufferings,  my  comfortings, 

Alternate  at  Thy  will  ; 
I  trust  Thee,  O  my  Father ; 

I  trust  Thee,  and  am  still. 

Thou  art  with  me,  O  my  Father, 

In  evening's  darkening  gloom  : 
When  night  enshrouds  the  sleeping  earth, 

Thy  presence  fills  my  room  : 
The  little  stars  bring  messages 

Of  kindness  from  above  ; 
I  love  Thee,  O  my  Father, 

And  I  feel  that  Thou  art  love. 

Jane  Euphemia  Saxby. 


Tvunt  antr  i^cacc-  123 

GOD    KNOWETH. 

1KNOW  not  what  shall  befall  me  ! 
God  hangs  a  mist  o'er  my  eyes, 
And  before  each  step  of  my  onward  path, 
He  makes  new  scenes  to  rise  : 
And  every  joy  He  sends  me,  comes 
As  a  sweet  and  glad  surprise. 

I  see  not  a  step  before  me, 
As  I  tread  the  days  of  the  year ; 
But  the  past  is  still  in  God's  keeping, 
The  future  His  mercy  will  clear; 
And  what  looks  dark  in  the  distance, 
May  brighten  as  I  draw  near. 

For  perhaps  the  dreaded  future 
Has  less  bitter  than  I  think  ; 
The  Lord  may  sweeten  the  waters 
Before  I  stoop  to  drink  ; 
Or,  if  Marah  must  be  Marah, 
He  will  stand  beside  its  brink. 

It  may  be  there  is  waiting 
For  the  coming  of  my  feet 
Some  gift  of  such  rare  blessedness, 
Some  joy  so  strangely  sweet, 
That  my  lips  shall  only  tremble 
With  the  thanks  I  cannot  speak. 


I2A  cSursttm  <£ortrau 

Oh,  blissful,  restful  ignorance  ! 
'Tis  blessed  not  to  know ; 
It  keeps  me  quiet  in  those  arms, 
Which  will  not  let  me  go  ; 
And  hushes  my  soul  to  rest, 
In  the  bosom  that  loves  me  so. 
j  So  I  go  on,  not  knowing ! 

I  would  not,  if  I  might ; 
I  would  rather  walk  in  the  dark  with  God, 
Than  go  alone  in  the  light  ; 
I  would  rather  walk  with  Him  by  faith, 
Than  walk  alone  by  sight. 
My  heart  shrinks  back  from  trials 
Which  the  future  may  disclose, 
Yet  I  never  had  a  sorrow 
But  what  the  dear  Lord  chose  ; 
So  I  send  the  coming  tears  back, 
With  the  whispered  words,  "  He  knows  !  " 

Anonymous. 
FOLLOWING. 

S  God  leads  me,  will  I  go, 
Nor  choose  my  way. 
Let  Him  choose  the  joy  or  woe 

Of  every  day : 
They  cannot  hurt  my  soul, 
Because  in  His  control : 
I  leave  to  Him  the  whole, — 

His  children  may. 


As 


Crust  antf  peace  125 

As  God  leads  me,  I  am  still 

Within  His  hand: 
Though  His  purpose  my  self-will 

Doth  oft  withstand. 
Yet  I  wish  that  none 
But  His  will  be  done, 
Till  the  end  be  won 

That  He  hath  planned. 

As  God  leads,  I  am  content ; 

He  will  take  care  ! 
All  things  by  His  will  are  sent 

That  I  must  bear. 
To  Him  I  take  my  fear, 
My  wishes  wThile  I'm  here, — 
The  way  will  all  seem  clear, 

When  I  am  there  ! 

As  God  leads  me,  it  is  mine 

To  follow  Him  ; 
Soon  all  shall  wonderfully  shine, 

Which  now  seems  dim. 
Fulfilled  be  His  decree  ! 
What  He  shall  choose  for  me, 
That  shall  my  portion  be, 

Up  to  the  brim  ! 

L.   Gedickb. 


i26  <Sunmm  Cortra- 


AT   ALL    TIMES. 

OTHOU  whose  bounty  fills  my  cup 
With  every  blessing  meet, 
I  give  Thee  thanks  for  every  drop,  — 
The  bitter  and  the  sweet. 

I  praise  Thee  for  the  desert  road, 

And  for  the  river-side  ; 
For  all  Thy  goodness  hath  bestowed, 

And  all  Thy  grace  denied. 

I  thank  Thee  for  both  smile  and  frown, 

And  for  the  gain  and  loss ; 
I  praise  Thee  for  the  future  crown, 

And  for  the  present  cross. 

I  thank  Thee  for  the  wing  of  love, 
Which  stirred  my  worldly  nest, 

And  for  the  stormy  clouds  that  drove 
The  flutterer  to  Thy  breast. 

I  bless  Thee  for  the  glad  increase, 

And  for  the  waning  joy, 
And  for  this  strange,  this  settled  peace, 

Which  nothing  can  destroy. 


Jane  Crewdson. 


Kvunt  antr  ^eacc-  127 


YOUR   HARPS,    YE   TREMBLING   SAINTS. 

YOUR  harps,  ye  trembling  saints, 
Down  from  the  willows  take  ; 
Loud  to  the  praise  of  Love  Divine 
Bid  every  string  awake. 

Though  in  a  foreign  land, 
We  are  not  far  from  home ; 
And  nearer  to  our  house  above 
We  every  moment  come. 

His  grace  will  to  the  end 

Stronger  and  brighter  shine  ; 
Nor  present  things,  nor  things  to  come, 
Shall  quench  the  spark  divine. 

Fastened  within  the  vail, 

Hope  be  your  anchor  strong ; 
His  loving  Spirit  the  sweet  gale 
That  wafts  you  smooth  along. 

Or  should  the  surges  rise, 
And  peace  delay  to  come, 
Blest  is  the  sorrow,  kind  the  storm, 
That  drives  us  nearer  home. 


128  <Sursum  (ftortrau 

When  we  in  darkness  walk, 
Nor  feel  the  heavenly  flame, 
Then  is  the  time  to  trust  our  God, 
And  rest  upon  His  name. 

Soon  shall  our  doubts  and  fears 
Subside  at  His  control ; 
His  loving-kindness  shall  break  through 
The  midnight  of  the  soul. 

No  wonder,  when  His  Love 
Pervades  your  kindling  breast, 
You  wish  for  ever  to  retain 

The  heart-transporting  Guest. 

Yet  learn,  in  every  state, 

To  make  His  will  your  own  ; 
And,  when  the  joys  of  sense  depart, 
To  walk  by  faith  alone. 

Still  on  His  plighted  love 
At  all  events  rely  ; 
The  very  hidings  of  His  face 
Shall  train  thee  up  to  joy. 


A.    M.    TOPLADY.       1772. 


£wst  anti  ^eace*  129 


THE    PILLAR  OF   THE    CLOUD. 

LEAD,  kindly  Light,  amid  the  encircling  gloom, 
Lead  Thou  me  on  ! 
The  night  is  dark,  and  I  am  far  from  home,  — 

Lead  Thou  me  on  ! 
Keep  Thou  my  feet  \  I  do  not  ask  to  see 
The  distant  scene,  —  one  step  enough  for  me. 

I  was  not  ever  thus,  nor  prayed  that  Thou 

Shouldst  lead  me  on. 
I  loved  to  choose  and  see  my  path  ;  but  now 

Lead  Thou  me  on  ! 
I  loved  the  garish  day,  and,  spite  of  fears, 
Pride  ruled  my  will :  remember  not  past  years. 

So  long  Thy  power  hath  blest  me,  sure  it  still 

Will  lead  me  on, 
O'er  moor  and  fen,  o'er  crag  and  torrent,  till 

The  night  is  gone  ; 
And  with  the  morn  those  angel  faces  smile 
Which  I  have  loved  long  since,  and  lost  awhile  ! 

John  Henry  Newman.     1833. 

9 


130  Sttnmm  <&orifa* 


MY    DELIVERER. 

I  WILL  trust  again  His  love,  His  power, 
Though  I  cannot  feel  His  hand  to-day  ; 
To  His  help  anew  I  will  betake  me, 

Though  His  countenance  seems  turned  away ! 
Though  without  one  smile,  one  gracious  token, 

Through  the  flames  and  floods  my  path  must  go, 
When  the  fires  subside,  the  waves  pass  over, 
My  Deliverer  I  again  shall  know. 

Langk. 


"TO   BE   OR   NOT   TO   BE." 

INFINITE  God !  on  Thee  I  rest, 
Like  infant  on  its  mother's  breast ; 
Within  Thy  arms  I  calmly  lie, 
Nor  ask  to  live,  nor  seek  to  die. 

Whate'er  Thy  love  ordains  for  me 
Shall  by  my  spirit  welcomed  be, 
Since  only  good  from  Thee  can  flow 
To  saint  above  or  child  below. 

E.  C. 


STntst  antr  Jieace-  131 


CHILDLIKE    SUBMISSION. 

WHAT  pleases  God,  O  pious  soul, 
Accept  with  joy,  though  thunders  roll 
And  tempests  lower  on  every  side, 
Thou  knowest  nought  can  thee  betide 
But  pleases  God. 

The  best  will  is  our  Father's  will, 
And  we  may  rest  there  calm  and  still ; 
Oh  !  make  it  hour  by  hour  thine  own, 
And  wish  for  nought  but  that  alone 
Which  pleases  God. 

What  most  would  profit  us  He  knows, 
And  ne'er  denies  aught  good  to  those 
Who  with  their  utmost  strength  pursue 
The  right,  and  only  care  to  do 
What  pleases  God. 

And  must  thou  suffer  here  and  there, 
Cling  but  the  firmer  to  His  care, 
For  all  things  are  beneath  His  sway, 
And  must  in  very  truth  obey 
What  pleases  God. 

Paul  Gerhardt.     1653. 
Tr.  by  Catharine  Winkworth. 


132  cSursttm  <£ortra- 


PSALM   XXIII. 

MY  Shepherd  is  the  Lord ;  I  know 
No  care  or  craving  need  : 
He  lays  me  where  the  green  herbs  grow 
Along  the  quiet  mead  : 

He  leads  me  where  the  waters  glide, 

The  waters  soft  and  still ; 
And  homeWard  He  will  gently  guide 

My  wandering  heart  and  will. 

He  brings  me  on  the  righteous  path, 

E'en  for  His  Name's  dear  sake. 
What  if  in  vale  and  shade  of  Death 

My  dreary  way  I  take  ? 

I  fear  no  ill,  for  Thou,  O  God, 

With  me  for  ever  art ; 
Thy  shepherd's  staff,  Thy  guiding  rod, 

'Tis  they  console  my  heart. 

Oh  !  nought  but  love  and  mercy  wait 

Through  all  my  life  on  me, 
And  I  within  my  Father's  gate 

For  long  bright  years  shall  be. 

Psalter  in  English  Verse. 


Crust  antr  ytacc-  133 


THE    PULLEY. 

WHEN  God  at  first  made  man, 
Having  a  glass  of  blessings  standing  by, 
"  Let  us,"  said  He,  "  pour  on  him  all  we  can  : 
Let  the  world's  riches,  which  dispersed  lie, 
Contract  into  a  span." 

So  strength  first  made  a  way; 
Then  beauty  flowed,  then  wisdom,  honor,  pleasure  : 
When  almost  all  was  out,  God  made  a  stay, 
Perceiving  that  alone,  of  all  his  treasure, 

Rest  in  the  bottom  lay. 

"  For  if  I  should,"  said  He, 
"  Bestow  this  jewel  also  on  my  creature, 
He  would  adore  my  gifts  in  stead  of  me, 
And  rest  in  Nature,  not  the  God  of  Nature  ; 

So  both  should  losers  be. 

"  Yet  let  him  keep  the  rest, 
But  keep  them  with  repining  restlessness  ; 
Let  him  be  rich  and  weary,  that  at  least, 
If  goodness  lead  him  not,  yet  weariness 

May  toss  him  to  my  breast." 

George  Herbert 


134  <Sttnmm  <£ortra* 

DECLENSION    AND    REVIVAL. 

"  From  Me  is  thy  fruit  found"  Hosea  XIV.  8. 

DIE  to  thy  root,  sweet  flower ! 
If  God  so  wills,  die  even  to  thy  root ; 
Live  there  awhile  an  uncomplaining,  mute, 
Blank  life,  with  darkness  wrapt  about  thy  head, 
And  fear  not  for  the  silence  round  thee  spread. 
This  is  no  grave,  though  thou  among  the  dead 
Art  counted,  but  the  Hiding-place  of  Power. 
Die  to  thy  root,  sweet  flower  ! 

Spring  from  thy  root,  sweet  flower  ! 
When  so  God  wills,  spring  even  from  thy  root ; 
Send  through  the  earth's  warm  breast  a  quickened  shoot  \ 
Spread  to  the  sunshine,  spread  unto  the  shower, 
And  lift  into  the  sunny  air  thy  dower 
Of  bloom  and  odor  ;  life  is  on  the  plains, 
And,  in  the  woods,  a  sound  of  birds  and  rains 
That  sing  together  ;  lo  !  the  winter's  cold 
Is  past !  sweet  scents  revive,  thick  buds  unfold  • 
Be  thou,  too,  willing  in  the  Day  of  Power  ; 
Spring  from  thy  root,  sweet  flower ! 

Dora  Greenwell. 


STrust  antr  ^cacc-  135 


TRUE    REST. 

GOD  sends  sometimes  a  stillness  in  our  life, 
The  bivouac,  the  sleep, 
When  on  the  silent  battle-field  the  strife 

Is  hushed  in  slumber  deep, 
When  wearied  hearts  exhausted  sink  to  rest, 
Remembering  nor  the  struggle  nor  the  quest. 

We  know  such  hours,  when  the  dim  dewy  night 

Bids  day's  hot  turmoil  cease  ; 
When  star  by  star  steals  noiselessly  in  sight, 

With  silent  smiles  of  peace  \ 
When  we  lay  down  our  load,  and  half  forget 
The  morrow  comes,  and  we  must  bear  it  yet. 

We  know  such  hours,  when  after  days  of  pain, 

And  nights  when  sleep  was  not, 
God  gives  us  ease  and  peace  and  calm  again, 

Till,  all  the  past  forgot, 
We  say,  in  rest  and  thankfulness  most  deep, 
E'en  so  "  He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep." 

When  some  strong  chain  that  bound  us  by  God's  strength 

Is  loosed  or  torn  apart ; 
Or  when,  beloved  and  longed-for,  come  at  length, 

Some  friend  makes  glad  our  heart,  — 
We  know  the  calm  that  follows  on  such  bliss, 
That  looks  no  farther,  satisfied  with  this. 


136  <Sttnmm  <&ottra- 

God  does  not  always  loose  the  chain,  nor  give 

The  loved  ones  back  to  us  ; 
Sometimes,  'mid  strife  and  tumult  we  must  live, 

Learning  His  silence  thus  : 
There  is  a  rest  for  those  who  bear  His  will, 
A  peacefulness  than  freedom  sweeter  still. 

He  giveth  rest  more  perfect,  pure,  and  true, 

While  we  His  burthen  bear ; 
It  springeth  not  from  parted  pain,  but  through 

The  accepted  blessing  there  ; 
The  lesson  pondered  o'er  with  thoughtful  eyes, 
The  faith  that  sees  in  all  a  meaning  wise. 

Deep  in  the  heart  of  pain  God's  hand  hath  set 

A  hidden  rest  and  bliss  ; 
Take  as  His  gift  the  pain,  the  gift  brings  yet 

A  truer  happiness  : 
God's  voice  speaks,  through  it  all,  the  high  behest 
That  bids  His  people  enter  into  rest. 

Lucy  Fletcher. 


COMMIT   THOU   ALL   THY   GRIEFS. 

COMMIT  thou  all  thy  griefs 
And  ways  into  His  hands, 
To  His  sure  trust  and  tender  care, 
Who  earth  and  heaven  commands. 


JErust  antr  |Jcace-  137 

Who  points  the  clouds  their  course, 
Whom  winds  and  seas  obey, 
He  shall  direct  thy  wandering  feet, 
He  shall  prepare  thy  way. 

Thou  on  the  Lord  rely, 
So  safe  shalt  thou  go  on  ; 
Fix  on  His  wrork  thy  steadfast  eye, 
So  shall  thy  work  be  done. 

No  profit  canst  thou  gain 
By  self-consuming  care  ; 
To  Him  commend  thy  cause  ;  His  ear 
Attends  the  softest  prayer. 

Thy  everlasting  Truth, 
Father  !  Thy  ceaseless  love, 
Sees  all  Thy  children's  wants,  and  knows 
What  best  for  each  will  prove. 

Give  to  the  winds  thy  fears  ; 
Hope,  and  be  undismayed  • 
God  hears  thy  sighs,  and  counts  thy  tears, 
God  shall  lift  up  thy  head. 

Through  waves  and  clouds  and  storms, 
He  gently  clears  thy  way ; 
Wait  thou  His  time  ;  so  shall  this  night 
Soon  end  in  joyous  day. 


138  cSttnmm  <£ortra- 

Still  heavy  is  thy  heart  ? 
Still  sink  thy  spirits  down  ? 
Cast  off  the  weight,  let  fear  depart, 
And  every  care  be  gone. 

Thou  seest  our  weakness,  Lord  ! 
Our  hearts  are  known  to  Thee  : 
Oh !  lift  Thou  up  the  sinking  hand, 
Confirm  the  feeble  knee  ! 

Let  us  in  life,  in  death, 
Thy  steadfast  Truth  declare, 
And  publish,  with  our  latest  breath, 
Thy  love  and  guardian  care  ! 


Paul  Gerhardt. 
Tr.  by  John  Wesley.     1739- 


HAPPINESS   FOUND. 

LORD,  it  is  not  life  to  live, 
If  Thy  presence  Thou  deny ; 
Lord,  if  Thou  Thy  presence  give, 

'Tis  no  longer  death  to  die. 
Source  and  giver  of  repose, 
Singly  from  Thy  smile  it  flows ; 
Peace  and  happiness  are  Thine ; 
Mine  they  are,  if  Thou  art  mine. 


A.    M.    TOPLADY. 


iErust  antr  peace-  139 


AWAY,    MY   NEEDLESS    FEARS. 

AWAY,  my  needless  fears, 
And  doubts  no  longer  mine  ! 
A  ray  of  heavenly  light  appears, 
A  messenger  divine. 
Thrice  comfortable  hope, 
That  calms  my  stormy  breast ; 
My  Father's  hand  prepares  the  cup, 
And  what  He  wills  is  best. 

He  knows  whate'er  I  want, 

He  sees  my  helplessness, 
And  always  readier  is  to  grant 

Than  I  to  ask  His  grace. 

My  fearful  heart  He  reads, 

Secures  my  soul  from  harms, 
And  underneath  His  mercy  spreads 

Its  everlasting  arms. 

Here  is  firm  footing ;  here, 

My  soul,  is  solid  rock, 
To  break  the  waves  of  grief  and  fear, 

And  trouble's  rudest  shock  : 

This  only  can  sustain 

When  earth  and  heaven  remove : 
O  turn  thee  to  thy  Rest  again  ,  — 

Thy  God's  eternal  Love  ! 

Charles  Wesley. 


Ti4°  cSttnmm  (ftorTra- 

QUIET   FROM    GOD. 

"  When  He  giveth  quietness,  who  then  can  make  trouble  ?  " 

QUIET  from  God!  how  beautiful  to  keep 
This  treasure,  the  All-merciful  hath  given  \ 
To  feel,  when  we  awake  and  when  we  sleep, 

Its  incense  round  us,  like  a  breath  from  heaven  ! 

To  sojourn  in  the  world,  and  yet  apart ; 

To  dwell  with  God,  yet  still  with  man  to  feel ; 
To  bear  about  for  ever  in  the  heart 

The  gladness  which  His  Spirit  doth  reveal  ! 

Who  shall  make  trouble  ?  Not  the  evil  minds 
Which  like  a  shadow  o'er  creation  lower  ; 

The  soul  which  peace  hath  thus  attuned  finds 
How  strong  within  doth  reign  the  Calmer's  power. 

What  shall  make  trouble  ?     Not  the  holy  thought 

Of  the  departed  ;  that  will  be  a  part 
Of  those  undying  things  His  peace  hath  wrought 

Into  a  world  of  beauty  in  the  heartA 

What  shall  make  trouble  ?     Not  slow-wasting  pain, 
Not  the  impending,  certain  stroke  of  death  ; 

These  do  but  wear  away,  then  snap  the  chain 
Which  bound  the  spirit  down  to  things  beneath. 

Sarah  J.  Williams. 


armst  autr  peace.  141 


FOR  EVER   WITH    THE    LORD. 

FOR  ever  with  the  Lord  ! 
Amen  !  so  let  it  be  ! 
Life  from  the  dead  is  in  that  word, 
And  immortality. 

Here  in  the  body  pent, 
Absent  from  Him  I  roam, 
Yet  nightly  pitch  my  moving  tent 
A  day's  march  nearer  home. 

My  Father's  house  on  high, 
Home  of  my  soul  !  how  near, 
At  times,  to  faith's  foreseeing  eye, 
Thy  golden  gates  appear  ! 

Yet  clouds  will  intervene, 
And  all  my  prospect  flies, 
Like  Noah's  dove,  I  flit  between 
Rough  seas  and  stormy  skies. 

Anon  the  clouds  depart, 
The  winds  and  waters  cease, 
While  sweetly  o'er  my  gladdened  heart 
Expands  the  bow  of  peace  ! 


142  Sursum  ©orttau 

Beneath  its  glowing  arch, 
Along  the  hallowed  ground, 
I  see  cherubic  armies  march, 
A  camp  of  fire  around. 

I  hear  at  morn  and  even, 
At  noon  and  midnight  hour, 
The  choral  harmonies  of  heaven 
Earth's  Babel  tongues  o'erpower. 

Then,  then  I  feel  that  He, 
Remembered  or  forgot, 
The  Lord,  is  never  far  from  me, 
Though  I  perceive  Him  not. 

For  ever  with  the  Lord  ! 
Father,  if  'tis  Thy  will, 
The  promise  of  that  gracious  word, 
E'en  here,  to  me  fulfil. 

Be  Thou  at  my  right  hand, 
Then  shall  I  never  fail  ; 
Uphold  me,  and  I  needs  must  stand  ; 
Fight,  and  I  shall  prevail. 

James  Montgomery. 


JTrust  autr  ^tatt.  143 


REDEMPTION    FOUND. 

FATHER  !  Thine  everlasting  grace 
Our  scanty  thought  surpasses  far  • 
Thy  heart  is  full  of  tenderness, 

Thy  arms  of  love  still  open  are 
Returning  sinners  to  receive, 
That  mercy  they  may  taste,  and  live. 

Though  waves  and  storms  go  o'er  my  head, 

Though  strength  and  health  and  friends  be  gone, 

Though  joys  be  withered  all,  and  dead, 
Though  every  comfort  be  withdrawn, 

On  this  my  steadfast  soul  relies, 

Father  !  Thy  mercy  never  dies. 

Fixed  on  this  ground  will  I  remain, 

Though  my  heart  fail  and  flesh  decay  ; 

This  anchor  shall  my  soul  sustain, 
When  earth's  foundations  melt  away; 

Mercy's  full  power  I  then  shall  prove, 

Loved  with  an  everlasting  love. 

Johann  Andreas  Rothe.     1728. 
Tr.  by  John  Wesley.     1740. 


^ubmijs&ion  in  ^orrotD- 


PEACE    IN   TROUBLE. 

WHAT  within  me  and  without 
Hourly  on  my  spirit  weighs, 
Burdening  heart  and  soul  with  doubt, 

Darkening  all  my  weary  days  : 
In  it  I  behold  Thy  will, 

God,  who  givest  rest  and  peace, 
And  my  heart  is  calm  and  still, 
Waiting  till  Thou  send  release. 

When  my  trials  tarry  long, 

Unto  Thee  I  look  and  wait, 
Knowing  none,  though  keen  and  strong, 

Can  my  faith  in  Thee  abate. 
O  my  soul,  why  art  thou  vexed  ? 

Let  things  go  e'en  as  they  will ; 
Though  to  thee  they  seem  perplexed, 

Yet  His  order  they  fulfil. 


A.  H.  Francke.     1663-1727. 


Submission  in  Sorroto*  145 


THE    QUIET    HOPING    HEART. 

WHATE'ER  my  God  ordains  is  right, 
His  will  is  ever  just ; 
Howe'er  He  order  now  my  cause, 
I  will  be  still  and  trust. 
He  is  my  God  ; 
Though  dark  my  road, 
He  holds  me  that  I  shall  not  fall, 
Wherefore  to  Him  I  leave  it  all. 

Whate'er  my  God  ordains  is  right, 

Though  I  the  cup  must  drink 
That  bitter  seems  to  my  faint  heart, 
I  will  not  fear  nor  shrink  • 
Tears  pass  away 
With  dawn  of  day, 
Sweet  comfort  yet  shall  fill  my  heart, 
And  pain  and  sorrow  shall  depart. 

Whate'er  my- God  ordains  is  right, 

My  Light,  my  Life  is  He, 
Who  cannot  will  me  aught  but  good, 
I  trust  Him  utterly  ; 
For  well  I  know, 
In  joy  or  woe, 
We  soon  shall  see  as  sunlight  clear 
How  faithful  was  our  Guardian  here. 
10 


146  <Sursum  ©ortra* 

Whate'er  my  God  ordains  is  right, 

Here  will  I  take  my  stand ; 
Through  sorrow,  need,  or  death  make  earth 
For  me  a  desert  land, 
My  Father's  care 
Is  around  me  there  \ 
He  holds  me  that  I  shall  not  fall, 
And  so  to  Him  I  leave  it  all. 

Samuel  Rodigast.     1675. 
EASTER-DAY. 

jT^HE  graves  grow  thicker,  and  life's  ways  more  bare, 
VjV       As  years  on  years  go  by  : 
Nay  !  thou  hast  more  green  gardens  in  thy  care, 
And  more  stars  in  thy  sky  ! 

Behind,  hopes  turned  to  griefs,  and  joys  to  memories 

Are  fading  out  of  sight : 
Before,  pains  changed  to  peace,  and  dreams  to  certainties 

Are  glowing  in  God's  Light. 

Hither  come  backslidings,  defeats,  distresses, 

Vexing  this  mortal  strife  : 
Thither  go  progress,  victories,  successes, 

Crowning  immortal  Life. 
No  jubilees,  few  gladsome  festive  hours 

Form  landmarks  for  my  way : 
But  Heaven  and  earth  and  Saints  and  friends  and  flowers 

Are  keeping  Easter-Day ! 

R.   E.  J.  A.     From  "  Lyra  Mystica." 


eSuflmteatou  in  Sorroto,  147 


TIRED. 

'*  Does  the  road  wind  uphill  all  the  way  ?  — 
Yes,  to  the  very  end.'" 

SO  tired  !  —  I  fain  would  rest ; 
But,  Lord,  Thou  knowest  best : 
I  wait  on  Thee. 
I  will  toil  on  from  day  to  day, 
Bearing  my  cross,  and  only  pray 
To  follow  Thee. 

So  tired  :  yet  I  would  work 

For  Thee  !  —  Lord,  hast  Thou  work 

Even  for  me  ? 
Small  things  —  which  others,  hurrying  on 
In  Thy  blest  service,  swift  and  strong, 

Might  never  see  ? 

So  tired  :  yet  I  might  reach 
A  flower,  to  cheer  and  teach 

Some  sadder  heart ; 
Or  for  parched  lips  perhaps  might  bring 
One  cup  of  water  from  the  spring, 

Ere  I  depart. 

So  tired  :  yet  it  were  sweet 
Some  faltering  tender  feet 
To  help  and  guide  ; 


148  Sursum  arortra. 

Thy  little  ones  whose  steps  are  slow, 
I  should  not  weary  them,  I  know, 
Nor  roughly  chide. 

So  tired  !  Lord,  Thou  wilt  come 
To  take  me  to  my  home, 

So  long  desired  : 
Only  Thy  grace  and  mercy  send, 
That  I  may  serve  Thee  to  the  end, 

Though  I  am  tired. 

M.  E.  T.     From  "  Voices  of  Comfort." 


SONNET  ON    HIS    BLINDNESS. 

WHEN  I  consider  how  my  light  is  spent, 
Ere  half  my  days,  in  this  dark  world  and  wide, 
And  that  one  talent  which  is  death  to  hide 
Lodged  with  me  useless,  though  my  soul  more  bent 
To  serve  therewith  my  Maker,  and  present 
My  true  account,  lest  he  returning  chide,  — 
"  Doth  God  exact  day-labor,  light  denied  ?  " 
I  fondly  ask  ;  but  Patience,  to  prevent 
That  murmur,  soon  replies  :  "  God  doth  not  need 
Either  man's  work  or  His  own  gifts ;  who  best 
Bear  His  mild  yoke,  they  serve  Him  best ;  His  state 
Is  kingly.     Thousands  at  His  bidding  speed, 
And  post  o'er  land  and  ocean  without  rest : 
They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and  wait." 

John  Milton. 


Sufimtsmon  in  cSorroto-  149 


THE   BLIND    ASLEEP. 

11  T  ALWAYS  see  in  dreams,"  she  said, 
■*•     "  Nor  then  believe  that  I  am  blind." 
That  simple  thought  a  shadowy  pleasure  shed 
Within  my  mind. 

In  a  like  doom,  the  nights  afford 
A  like  display  of  mercy  done. 
How  oft  I've  dreamed  of  sight  as  full  restored  ! 
Not  once  as  gone. 

Restored  as  with  a  flash  !     I  gaze 
On  open  books  with  letters  plain  ; 
And  scenes  and  faces  of  the  dearer  days 
Are  bright  again. 

O  Sleep  !  in  pity  thou  art  made 
A  double  boon  to  such  as  we  ; 
Beneath  closed  lids  and  folds  of  deepest  shade 
We  think  we  see. 

O  Providence  !  when  all  is  dark 
Around  our  steps  and  o'er  Thy  will, 
The  mercy-seat  that  hides  the  covenant-ark 
Has  angels  still. 

Thou  who  art  light !  illume  the  page 
Within  ;  renew  these  respites  sweet, 
And  show  beyond  the  films  and  wear  of  age 
Both  walk  and  seat. 

N.   L.  Fkothingham.     1865. 


iso  <Sursmm  ©ortra- 


HYMN    FOR   THE   BLIND. 

OGOD  !  to  Thine  all-seeing  ken 
The  night  and  day  are  one  ; 
The  blackness  of  earth's  deepest  den, 
And  flaming  of  the  sun. 

Both  lend  to  eyes  of  mortal  race 

Their  sweet  and  mingled  aid  ; 
And  blest  in  its  alternate  place 

The  shining  and  the  shade. 

For  us,  a  cloud  is  on  the  sight, 

And  Nature's  face  is  hid  ; 
Alike  untouched  by  figured  light, 

The  eyeball  and  the  lid. 

So  it  hath  pleased  Thee,  God  !     Be  each 

Sore  plaint  and  passion  still ; 
And  holy  thoughts  kneel  down,  and  teach 

Submission  to  that  will. 

From  all  our  diminutions,  Lord, 

Let  trust  and  love  increase  ; 
And  all  our  hindrances  reward 

With  patience  and  with  peace. 

Oh,  clear  the  mind  !     Be  more  and  more 

The  invisible  revealed  ; 
And  spirits  brighten  at  the  door, 

When  all  without  is  sealed ! 

N.  L.  Frothingham.     1865. 


<Sutomu>mou  tn  Sorroto.  151 


THE   DEAF   AND    THE    BLIND. 

THE  deaf  man  sees  the  prison  wall 
Of  mutes  and  mimes  that  hems  him  round  ; 
With  peering  gaze  he  scans  them  all, 
His  answer  is  a  blank  of  sound. 

The  blind  man  listening  walks  ;  and,  when 

The  living  voices  meet  his  ear, 
A  world  of  souls  is  near  him  then, 

With  inner  light  his  heart  to  cheer. 

The  deaf  man  reads  the  written  signs, 

Where  living  thoughts  their  impress  trace, 

And,  oh  !  what  recognition  shines, 
As  he  looks  upward  to  the  face  ! 

The  blind  man  sees  not  how  the  ray 
Of  morning  crimsons  all  the  skies  ; 

At  eve,  he  sees  not  how  the  day 
In  soft  and  tender  beauty  dies. 

Which  loses  most  ?  ah  !  who  shall  say  ? 

But,  deaf  and  blind  at  once  to  be ; 
To  miss  all  sight  and  sound  of  day,  — 

No  voice  to  hear,  no  face  to  see ! 

"  Silence  and  darkness  "  walk,  in  song, 
Two  "  solemn  sisters  ; "  but  to  him 

Who  deaf  and  blind  sits  all  day  long, 
Twin  jailers  are  they,  stark  and  grim. 


152  Sursttm  <&ortra* 

Yet  still  is  left  the  hand's  warm  grasp 
That  speaks  and  is  so  much  of  bliss  ! 

The  tender  cheek,  the  loving  clasp, 
The  silent  language  of  the  kiss  ! 

And  so,  as  one  by  one  expire 

The  dear  delights  of  earthly  sense, 
The  soul's  deep  founts  of  inner  fire 

Gush  up  with  fervor  more  intense. 

O  soul !  live  inward  !  in  thy  realm 

Of  light  and  love  and  loveliness ! 
Then,  though  dark  fate  earth's  house  may  whelm, 

The  peace  of  God  thy  home  shall  bless. 

Charles  T.  Brooks. 


DISCIPLINE. 

TREMBLE  not,  though  darkly  gather 
Clouds  and  tempests  o'er  thy  sky  ; 
Still  believe,  thy  heavenly  Father 

Loves  thee  best  when  storms  are  nigh. 

Love  divine  has  seen  and  counted 

Every  tear  it  caused  to  fall, 
And  the  storm  which  Love  appointed 

Was  its  choicest  gift  of  all. 

Jane  Borthwick. 


Sirtnmsmou  in  Sorroto.  153 


TRUST    IN    GOD. 

LEAVE  God  to  order  all  thy  ways, 
And  hope  in  Him  whate'er  betide  \ 
Thou'lt  find  Him  in  the  evil  days 

Thy  all-sufficient  strength  and  guide  ; 
Who  trusts  in  God's  unchanging  love, 
Builds  on  the  rock  that  nought  can  move. 

What  can  these  anxious  cares  avail, 

These  never-ceasing  moans  and  sighs  ? 
What  can  it  help  us  to  bewail 
Each  painful  moment  as  it  flies  ? 
Our  cross  and  trials  do  but  press 
The  heavier  for  our  bitterness. 

Only  thy  restless  heart  keep  still, 

And  wait  in  cheerful  hope  ;  content 
To  take  whate'er  His  gracious  will, 
His  all-discerning  love  hath  sent. 
Doubt  not  our  inmost  wants  are  known 
To  Him  who  chose  us  for  His  own. 

He  knows  when  joyful  hours  are  best, 
He  sends  them  as  He  sees  it  meet ; 
When  thou  hast  borne  the  fiery  test, 
And  art  made  free  from  all  deceit, 
He  comes  to  thee  all  unaware, 
And  makes  thee  own  His  Joving  care. 


iS4  Sttrmtm  (ftorfca* 

Sing,  pray,  and  swerve  not  from  His  ways, 

But  do  thine  own  part  faithfully  ; 
Trust  His  rich  promises  of  grace, 
So  shall  they  be  fulfilled  in  thee  : 
God  never  yet  forsook  at  need 
The  soul  that  trusted  Him  indeed. 

George  Neumarck.     1653. 


TRUST    IN   DIVINE    GOODNESS. 

"jV/TY  God  !  I  thank  Thee  ;  may  no  thought 
•*■*■*-     E'er  deem  Thy  chastisements  severe  ; 
But  may  this  heart,  by  sorrow  taught, 
Calm  each  wild  wish,  each  idle  fear. 

Thy  mercy  bids  all  nature  bloom  ; 

The  sun  shines  bright,  and  man  is  gay ; 
Thine  equal  mercy  spreads  the  gloom 

That  darkens  o'er  his  little  day. 

Full  many  a  throb  of  grief  and  pain 
Thy  frail  and  erring  child  must  know ; 

But  not  one  prayer  is  breathed  in  vain, 
Nor  does  one  tear  unheeded  flow. 

Thy  various  messengers  employ ! 

Thy  purposes  of  love  fulfil ! 
And,  'mid  the  wreck  of  human  joy, 

May  kneeling  faith  adore  Thy  will. 

Andrews  Norton.     1809. 


Sutmismou  in  Sorroto.  155 


THE    GUEST. 

"  Behold,  I  stand  at  the  door,  and  knock :  if  any  man  hear  my  voice  y 
and  open  the  door,  I 'will  come  in  to  him,  and  will  sup  with  him,  and 
he  with  me."  —  Rev.  iii.  20. 

SPEECHLESS  Sorrow  sat  with  me  ; 
I  was  sighing  wearily  ! 
Lamp  and  fire  were  out :  the  rain 
Wildly  beat  the  window-pane. 
In  the  dark  we  heard  a  knock, 
And  a  hand  was  on  the  lock  ; 
One  in  waiting  spake  to  me, 

Saying  sweetly, 
"  I  am  come  to  sup  with  thee  /" 

All  my  room  was  dark  and  damp  ; 
"  Sorrow,"  said  I,  "trim  the  lamp  ; 
Light  the  fire,  and  cheer  thy  face  ; 
Set  the  guest-chair  in  its  place." 
And  again  I  heard  the  knock  ; 
In  the  dark  I  found  the  lock  :  — 
"Enter!   I  have  turned  the  key! 

Enter,  Stranger  ! 
Who  art  come  to  sup  with  me." 

Opening  wide  the  door  he  came, 
But  I  could  not  speak  his  name  ; 
In  the  guest-chair  took  his  place  ; 
But  I  could  not  see  his  face  ! 


156  Sursum  Gtortter* 

When  my  cheerful  fire  was  beaming, 
When  my  little  lamp  was  gleaming, 
And  the  feast  was  spread  for  three, 

Lo  !  my  Master 
Was  the  Guest  that  supped  with  me ! 

Harriet  McEwen  Kimball. 


I    THANK   THEE    FOR   THE    LONELINESS. 


1 


THANK  Thee  for  the  loneliness 
That  brings  me  near  to  Thee  ;  — 


Thanks  that  no  other  heart  can  bless, 

No  other  eye  can  see  ! 
I  never  knew  the  depth,  the  height, 

Of  heavenly  love  before  : 
O  Lord !  Thy  presence  gilds  my  night, 

It  brightens  more  and  more. 

What  matter,  in  that  lucid  gleam, 

If  stars  grow  bright  or  pale  ? 
Shall  we  of  lesser  glories  dream 

Who  look  within  the  vail  ? 
Why  count  the  little  earthly  loss, 

When  gifts  from  Heaven  flow  down  ? 
Lord,  Thou  for  me  hast  set  the  Cross 

With  jewels  of  the  Crown. 


a.  g.  R. 


cSufimfsmou  in  Sorroto.  157 


DRYNESS    IN    PRAYER. 

OH  for  the  happy  days  gone  by, 
When  love  ran  smooth  and  free, 
Days  when  my  spirit  so  enjoyed 
More  than  earth's  liberty ! 

This  freezing  heart,  O  Lord !  this  will 

Dry  as  the  desert  sand, 
Good  thoughts  that  will  not  come,  bad  thoughts 

That  come  without  command  :  — 

If  this  drear  change  be  Thine,  O  Lord ! 

If  it  be  Thy  sweet  will,  — 
Spare  not,  but  to  the  very  brim 

The  bitter  chalice  fill. 

But,  if  it  hath  been  sin  of  mine, 

Oh,  show  that  sin  to  me  ! 
Not  to  get  back  the  sweetness  lost, 

But  to  make  peace  with  Thee. 

One  thing  alone,  dear  Lord  !  I  dread  :  — 

To  have  a  secret  spot 
That  separates  my  soul  from  Thee, 

And  yet  to  know  it  not. 

But  if  this  weariness  hath  come 

A  present  from  on  high, 
Teach  me  to  find  the  hidden  wealth 

That  in  its  depths  may  lie. 


158  cSunmm  <£orTrci- 

So  in  this  darkness  I  can  learn 

To  tremble  and  adore, 
To  sound  my  own  vile  nothingness, 

And  thus  to  love  Thee  more,  — 

To  love  Thee,  and  yet  not  to  think 

That  I  can  love  so  much,  — 
To  have  Thee  with  me,  Lord,  all  day, 

Yet  not  to  feel  Thy  touch. 

Oh,  blessed  be  this  darkness  then, 

This  deep  in  which  I  lie ; 
And  blessed  be  all  things  that  teach 

God's  great  supremacy ! 

F.  W.  Faber. 

THE    LAST   WISH. 

TO  do,  or  not  to  do ;  to  have, 
Or  not  to  have,  I  leave  to  Thee ; 
To  be  or  not  to  be,  I  leave ; 

Thy  only  will  be  done  in  me. 
All  my  requests  are  lost  in  one  ; 
Father,  Thy  only  will  be  done  ! 

Suffice  that  for  the  season  past 

Myself  in  things  divine  I  sought, 
For  comforts  cried  with  eager  haste, 

And  murmured  when  I  found  them  not : 
I  leave  it  now  to  Thee  alone  ; 
Father,  Thy  only  will  be  done  ! 

Charles  Wesley.     1749. 


cStrtmtsgton  In  <Somito*  159 

DESPONDENCY   CORRECTED. 

From  "  The  Excursion." 

ONE  adequate  support 
For  the  calamities  of  mortal  life 
Exists,  one  only  :  an  assured  belief 
That  the  procession  of  our  fate,  howe'er 
Sad  or  disturbed,  is  ordered  by  a  Being 
Of  infinite  benevolence  and  power ; 
Whose  everlasting  purposes  embrace 
All  accidents,  converting  them  to  good.  — 
The  darts  of  anguish  fix  not  where  the  seat 
Of  suffering  hath  been  thoroughly  fortified 
By  acquiescence  in  the  Will  Supreme 
For  Time  and  for  Eternity  ;  by  faith, 
Faith  absolute  in  God,  including  hope, 
And  the  defence  that  lies  in  boundless  love 
Of  His  perfections,  with  habitual  dread 
Of  aught  unworthily  conceived,  endured 
Impatiently  ;  ill-done,  or  left  undone, 
To  the  dishonor  of  His  holy  Name. 
Soul  of  our  souls,  and  safeguard  of  the  world ! 
Sustain  —  Thou  only  canst  —  the  sick  of  heart ; 
Restore  their  languid  spirits,  and  recall 
Their  lost  affections  unto  Thee  and  Thine  ! 

William  Wordsworth. 


i6o  Sursum  <£ortra* 


REST    IN    GOD. 

YEA,  my  spirit  fain  would  sink 
In  Thy  heart  and  hands,'  my  God, 
Waiting  till  Thou  show  the  end 

Of  the  ways  she  here  hath  trod  ; 
Stripped  of  self,  how  calm  her  rest 
On  her  loving  Father's  breast ! 

And  my  soul  complaineth  not ; 

For  she  knows  not  pain  or  fear, 
Clinging  to  her  God  in  faith, 

Trusting  though  He  slay  her  here. 
'Tis  when  flesh  and  blood  repine, 

Sun  of  joy,  Thou  canst  not  shine. 

Thus  my  soul  before  her  God 

Lieth  still,  nor  speaketh  more, 
Conqueror  thus  o'er  pain  and  wrong, 

That  once  smote  her  to  the  core ; 
Like  a  silent  ocean,  bright 

With  her  God's  great  praise  and  light. 

Winkler.     1713. 


.Sufimtesion  in  <Sorroto-  161 


CONTEXT    TO    SUFFER. 

T  TOW  oft  a  gleam  of  glory  sent 

-*-  -■-    Straight  through  the  deepest,  darkest  night, 

Has  filled  the  soul  with  heavenly  light, 
With  holy  peace  and  sweet  content ! 

Content  to  wait  the  will  of  God, 

To  cast  on  Him  the  heavy  load, 

To  walk  with  Him  the  weary  road 
With  patience,  leaning  on  the  Lord. 

Content  to  suffer  and  be  still, 

Without  complaining  bear  the  cross, 
Endure  the  pain,  accept  the  loss 

Of  all  earth's  treasures,  if  God  will. 

Anonymous, 

COUPLETS. 

WHEN  thou  hast  thanked  thy  God  for  every  bless- 
ing sent, 
What  time  will  then  remain  for  murmurs  or  lament? 

When  God  afflicts  thee,  think  He  hews  a  rugged  stone, 
Which  must  be  shaped,  or  else  aside  as  useless  thrown. 

R.   C  Trench. 


162  Sunmm  <&ortra* 


MEDICINE. 


MUSING  of  all  my  Father's  love, 
How  sweet  it  is  ! 
Methought  I  heard  a  gentle  voice  : 

"  Child,  here's  the  cup, 
I've  mixed  it,  —  drink  it  up." 
My  heart  did  sink,  —  I  could  no  more  rejoice. 

"  O  Father,  must  it  be?  "  — 

"  Yes,  child,  it  must."  — 
"  Then  give  the  needed  medicine ; 

Be  by  my  side, 
Only  Thy  face  don't  hide, 
I'll  drink  it  all :  it  must  be  good,  —  'tis  Thine." 

From  an  old  English  Tract. 


HE    GIVETH    SONGS    IN    THE    NIGHT. 

WE  praise  Thee  oft  for  hours  of  bliss, 
For  days  of  quiet  rest : 
But,  oh,  how  seldom  do  we  feel 
That  pain  and  tears  are  best ! 


.Sufcmtsmon  Cn  SorroUh  163 

We  praise  Thee  for  the  shining  sun, 

For  kind  and  gladsome  ways  \ 
When  shall  we  learn,  O  Lord,  to  sing 

Through  weary  nights  and  days  ? 

Are  there  no  hours  of  conflict  fierce, 

No  weary  toils  and  pains, 
No  watchings,  and  no  bitterness, 

That  bring  their  blessed  gains  ? 

That  bring  their  blessed  gains  full  well, 

In  truer  faith  and  love, 
And  patience  sweet,  and  gentleness, 

From  our  dear  Home  above  ? 

Teach  Thou  our  weak  and  wandering  hearts 

Aright  to  read  Thy  way,  — 
That  Thou,  with  loving  hand  dost  trace 

Our  history  every  day : 

Then  Sorrow's  face  shall  be  unveiled, 

And  we  at  last  shall  see 
Her  eyes  are  eyes  of  tenderness, 

Her  speech  but  echoes  Thee. 

John  Page  Hopps. 


1 64  cSttnmm  ©ortra* 


THE    HAND    OF   GOD. 

IT  is  Thy  hand,  my  God  ! 
My  sorrow  comes  from  Thee  : 
I  bow  beneath  Thy  chastening  rod  ; 
'Tis  Love  that  bruises  me. 

I  would  not  murmur,  Lord, 

Before  Thee  I  am  dumb  : 
Lest  I  should  breathe  one  murmuring  word, 

To  Thee  for  help  I  come. 

My  God  !  Thy  name  is  Love, 

A  Father's  hand  is  Thine  ; 
With  tearful  eye  I  look  above, 

And  cry,  "  Thy  will  be  mine." 

I  know  Thy  will  is  right, 

Though  it  may  seem  severe  ; 
Thy  path  is  still  unsullied  light, 

Though  dark  it  oft  appear. 

Here  my  poor  heart  can  rest,  — 

My  God  !  it  cleaves  to  Thee  ; 
Thy  will  is  Love,  Thine  end  is  blest, 

All  work  for  good  to  me. 

James  George  Deck.     1843. 


Submission  in  cSorroto,  165 


GOD    KNOWS    THE   BEST. 

GOD  knows  the  best ! 
His  love  can  make  life's  darkness  clear, 
Chase  the  heart's  winter  from  the  breast, 

And  send  a  summer  all  the  year. 
The  souls  who  yield  to  Him  are  blest 

With  foretastes  of  their  heavenly  cheer  ■ 
And  earthly  strife  or  earthly  rest 
It  matters  not  when  Home  is  near. 

God  knows  the  way  ! 

Trust  Him  to  lead  thy  steps  aright. 
Oh,  let  the  path  be  what  it  may, 

'Tis  smooth  to  faith,  though  rough  to  sight ! 
Seek  not  earth's  sunshine,  nor  delay 

By  pastures  green  and  waters  bright ; 
For  earthly  night  or  earthly  day 

It  matters  little  in  His  light. 

God  knows  the  end  ! 

His  is  the  Land  of  love  divine  : 
Thither  thy  journey  all  shall  tend 

Through  storms  that  beat,  or  suns  that  shine. 
He  shall  from  every  ill  defend, 

Though  all  against  thy  soul  combine  ; 
And  earthly  foe  or  earthly  friend 

It  matters  not,  if  He  is  thine  ! 

A.  G.  R. 


1 66  <Sunmm  ©ortra- 


DE    PROFUNDIS. 

FOR  us  —  whatever's  undergone, 
Thou  knowest,  wiliest  what  is  done. 
Grief  may  be  joy  misunderstood  : 
Only  the  Good  discerns  the  good ; 
I  trust  Thee  while  my  days  go  on. 

I  praise  Thee  while  my  days  go  on ; 

I  love  Thee  while  my  days  go  on ! 

Through  dark  and  dearth,  through  fire  and  frost, 

With  emptied  arms  and  treasure  lost, 

I  thank  Thee  while  my  days  go  on  ! 

E.  B.  Browning. 

HE    SENDS    IT. 

"  The  very  hairs  of  your  head  are  all  numbered" 

IS  thy  path  lonely  ?     Fear  it  not,  for  He 
Who  marks  the  sparrow's  fall  is  guarding  thee  ; 
And  not  a  star  shines  o'er  thy  head  by  night 
But  He  doth  know  that  it  will  meet  thy  sight ; 
And  not  a  joy  can  beautify  thy  lot, 
But  tells  thee  still  that  thou  art  unforgot. 
Nay,  not  a  grief  can  darken  or  surprise, 
Dwell  in  thy  heart,  or  dim  with  tears  thine  eyes, 
But  it  is  sent  in  mercy  and  in  love, 
To  bid  thy  helplessness  seek  strength  above.^) 

Anonymous. 


Sufimtsmou  Cn  Sorroto-  167 


"BLESSED    ARE    THEY   THAT    MOURN." 

OH  !  deem  not  they  are  blest  alone 
Whose  lives  a  peaceful  tenor  keep  ; 
The  Power  who  pities  man  has  shown 
A  blessing  for  the  eyes  that  weep. 

The  light  of  smiles  shall  fill  again 
The  lids  that  overflow  with  tears  ; 

And  weary  hours  of  woe  and  pain 
Are  promises  of  happier  years. 

There  is  a  day  of  sunny  rest 

For  every  dark  and  troubled  night ; 

And  grief  may  bide  an  evening  guest, 
But  joy  shall  come  with  early  light. 

William  C.  Bryant. 

RICH    IN    THE    LORD. 

GOD  draws  a  cloud  over  each  gleaming  morn, — 
Would  you  ask  why  ? 
It  is  because  all  noblest  things  are  born 
In  agony. 

Only  upon  some  cross  of  pain  and  woe 

God's  son  may  lie : 
Each  soul,  redeemed  from  self  and  sin,  must  know 

Its  Calvary. 


168  cSursmm  <£ortra* 

Yet  we  should  crave  neither  for  joy  nor  grief ; 

God  chooses  best : 
He  only  knows  our  sick  soul's  best  relief, 

And  gives  us  rest. 

More  than  our  feeble  hearts  can  ever  pine 

For  holiness. 
That  Father,  in  His  tenderness  divine, 

Yearneth  to  bless. 

He  never  sends  a  joy  not  meant  in  love, 

Still  less  a  pain. 
Our  gratitude  the  sunlight  falls  to  prove ; 

Our  faith,  the  rain. 

In  His  hands  we  are  safe.     We  falter  on 

Through  storm  and  mire  : 
Above,  beside,  around  us,  there  is  One 

Will  never  tire. 

What  though  we  fall,  and  bruised  and  wounded  lie, 

Our  lips  in  dust  ? 
God's  arm  shall  lift  us  up  to  victory : 

In  Him  we  trust. 

For  neither  life  nor  death,  nor  things  below 

Nor  things  above, 
Shall  ever  sever  us,  that  we  should  go 

From  His  great  love. 

Frances  Power  Cobbe.     1859. 


Sufimtem'on  in  Sorroto*  169 


THE   ANGEL    OF    PATIENCE. 

r  I  ^O  weary  hearts,  to  mourning  homes, 

-■»     God's  meekest  Angel  gently  comes  : 
No  power  has  he  to  banish  pain, 
Or  give  us  back  our  lost  again  ; 
And  yet  in  tenderest  love  our  dear 
And  Heavenly  Father  sends  him  here. 
There's  quiet  in  that  Angel's  glance  ; 
There's  rest  in  his  still  countenance  ! 
He  mocks  no  grief  with  idle  cheer, 
Nor  wounds  with  words  the  mourner's  ear; 
But  ills  and  woes  he  may  not  cure 
He  kindly  trains  us  to  endure. 
Angel  of  Patience  !  sent  to  calm 
Our  feverish  brows  with  cooling  palm  ; 
To  lay  the  storms  of  hope  and  fear, 
And  reconcile  life's  smile  and  tear; 
The  throbs  of  wounded  pride  to  still, 
And  make  our  own  our  Father's  will ! 
O  thou  who  mournest  on  thy  way, 
With  longings  for  the  close  of  day  ! 
He  walks  with  thee,  that  Angel  kind, 
And  gently  whispers,  "  Be  resigned  ; 
Bear  up,  bear  on,  the  end  shall  tell 
The  dear  Lord  ordereth  all  things  well  !  " 

.A  free  paraphrase  of  the  German,  by  John   G.  Whittier. 


170  <£ttnmm  ©ortra- 


"YET    A    LITTLE    WHILE." 

OH  !  for  the  peace  which  floweth  as  a  river, 
Making  life's  desert  places  bloom  and  smile. 
Oh  !  for  a  faith  to  grasp  heaven's  bright  forever, 
Amid  the  shadows  of  earth's  "  little  while." 

A  little  while  for  patient  vigil-keeping, 

To  face  the  storm,  to  wrestle  with  the  strong ; 

A  little  while  to  sow  the  seed  with  weeping, 

Then  bind  the  sheaves,  and  sing  the  harvest-song. 

A  little  while  the  earthen  pitcher  taking 

To  wayside  brooks  from  far-off  fountains  fed  ; 

Then  the  parched  lip  its  thirst  for  ever  slaking 
Beside  the  fulness  of  the  fountain-head. 

A  little  while  to  keep  the  oil  from  failing  • 
A  little  while  Faith's  flickering  lamp  to  trim ; 

And  then,  the  Bridegroom's  coming  footstep  hailing, 
To  haste  to  meet  Him  with  the  bridal  hymn. 

And  He  who  is  at  once  both  gift  and  Giver, 
The  future  glory,  and  the  present  smile, 

With  the  bright  promise  of  the  glad  forever, 
Will  light  the  shadows  of  the  little  while. 

Jane  Crewdson. 


Sttimtsmou  in  <Sorroto-  171 


PATIENT    FAITH. 

I  HAVE  had  my  happy  days, 
Followed  life  through  pleasant  ways, 
Joys  unnumbered  bloomed  in  all : 
Now  with  patient  faith  I  go 
Through  the  desert  walks  of  woe  : 
In  each  life  some  tears  must  fall ! 

Unto  Thee  I  give  my  heart  ; 
Life  and  love  may  all  depart  : 

Lord,  I  love  Thee  more  than  life  ! 
Earthly  refuge  turns  to  dust ; 
Thou  my  refuge  art,  my  Trust : 

I  shall  conquer  in  the  strife  ! 

Death  may  come,  but  death  shall  be 
Messenger  of  life  to  me  : 

Can  I  grieve  to  see  him  near  ? 
In  the  dark  and  shadowy  vale 
Thou,  my  Father,  wilt  not  fail ; 

And  with  Thee  I  feel  no  fear. 

I  will  take,  in  patient  faith, 
Sorrow,  darkness,  pain,  and  death, 

Looking  only  unto  Thee  : 
Lord,  I  yield  me  to  Thy  will ! 
Be  it  blessing,  be  it  ill, 

All  shall  work  for  good  to  me. 

C.   F.  Gellrkt. 


172  <Sttnmm  (ftorirau 


THOU   VERY   PRESENT   AID. 

THOU  very  present  Aid 
In  suffering  and  distress, 
The  soul  which  still  on  Thee  is  stayed 
Is  kept  in  perfect  peace. 
The  soul  by  faith  reclined 
On  his  Redeemer's  breast 
Midst  raging  storms  exults  to  find 
An  everlasting  rest. 

Sorrow  and  fear  are  gone, 

Whene'er  Thy  face  appears  ; 
It  stills  the  sighing  orphan's  moan, 

And  dries  the  widow's  tears. 

It  hallows  every  cross  ; 

It  sweetly  comforts  me  ; 
And  makes  me  now  forget  my  loss, 

And  lose  myself  in  Thee. 

Peace  to  the  troubled  heart, 

Health  to  the  sin-sick  mind, 
The  wounded  spirit's  Balm  Thou  art, 

The  Healer  of  mankind. 

In  deep  affliction  blest 

With  Thee  I  mount  above, 
And  sing,  triumphantly  distrest, 

Thine  all-sufficient  Love. 

Charles  Wesley.     1749- 


Submission  in  Sorroto.  173 

TRUST    IN    SORROW. 

OH  let  him,  whose  sorrow 
Xo  relief  can  find, 
Trust  in  God,  and  borrow 
Ease  for  heart  and  mind. 

God  will  never  leave  thee  ; 

All  thy  wants  He  knows, 
Feels  the  pains  that  grieve  thee, 

Sees  thy  cares  and  woes. 

Raise  thine  eyes  to  heaven 

When  thy  spirits  quail, 
When,  by  tempests  driven, 

Heart  and  courage  fail. 

When  in  grief  we  languish, 

He  will  dry  the  tear, 
Who  His  children's  anguish 

Soothes  with  succor  near. 

Hymns  Ancient  and  Modern. 

LYING    STILL. 

OLORD  my  God,  do  Thou  Thy  holy  will. 
I  will  lie'  still : 
I  will  not  stir,  lest  I  forsake  Thine  arm, 

And  break  the  charm 
Which  lulls  me,  clinging  to  my  Father's  breast 

In  perfect  rest.  j.  keble. 


174  cSursum  <£ortr#/ 

PATIENCE. 

FOR  patience,  when  the  rough  winds  blow ! 
For  patience,  when  our  hopes  are  fading,  — 
When  visible  things  all  backward  go, 

And  nowhere  seems  the  power  of  aiding  ! 
God  still  enfolds  thee  with  his  viewless  hand, 
And  leads  thee  surely  to  the  Fatherland. 

For  patience  !  after  bitter  ways 

Thy  forward  path  will  bloom  with  blessing. 
Faith  boldly  sets  its  foot  and  gaze, 

O'er  heights  and  depths  its  errands  pressing. 
Thro'  vales  of  humblest  thought  it  journeys  down ; 
Hence  trusts  in  God  to  mount  and  reach  its  crown. 

For  patience,  heart,  till  He  shall  call, 

His  "  Enter  ye,"  benignly  saying  ; 

And  though  the  world  shall  break  and  fall, 

Hold  on,  confiding,  watching,  praying  ; 

For  soon  it  ends,  all  need  of  patience  o'er  ; 

Each  step  still  nearer  to  the  Father's  door. 

N.  L.   Frothingham.' 
Tr.  from  the  German. 

TRANSVERSE  AND  PARALLEL. 

MY  will,  dear  Lord,  from  Thine  doth  run 
Too  oft  a  different  way ; 
Tis  hard  to  say,  "  Thy  will  be  done,  " 
In  every  darkened  day ! 


cStrtmusston  in  <Sorroto*  175 

My  heart  grows  chill 
To  see  Thy  will 

Turn  all  life's  gold  to  gray. 

My  will  is  set  to  gather  flowers, 

Thine  blights  them  in  my  hand  ; 
Mine  reaches  for  life's  sunny  hours, 
Thine  leads  through  shadow-land  ; 
And  all  my  days 
Go  on  in  ways 
I  cannot  understand. 

Yet  more  and  more  this  truth  doth  shine 

From  failure  and  from  loss, 
The  will  that  runs  transverse  to  Thine 
Doth  thereby  make  its  cross : 
Thine  upright  will 
Cuts  straight  and  still 
Through  pride  and  dream  and  dross. 

But  if  in  parallel  to  Thine 

My  will  doth  meekly  run, 

All  things  in  heaven  and  earth  are  mine, 

My  will  is  crossed  by  none ; 

Thou  art  in  me, 

And  I  in  Thee. — 

Thy  will  —  and  mine  —  are  done  ! 

w.  m.  l.  j. 


176  Sttrsum  <£ortta* 


THE   ETERNAL   YEARS. 

HOW  shalt  thou  bear  the  Cross  that  now 
So  dread  a  weight  appears  ? 
Keep  quietly  to  God,  and  think 
Upon  the  Eternal  Years. 

Thy  self-upbraiding  is  a  snare, 

Though  meekness  it  appears  ; 
More  humbling  is  it  far  for  thee 

To  face  the  Eternal  Years. 

Brave  quiet  is  the  thing  for  thee, 

Chiding  thy  scrupulous  fears  ; 
Learn  to  be  real  from  the  thought 

Of  the  Eternal  Years. 

Bear  gently,  suffer  like  a  child, 

Nor  be  ashamed  of  tears  ; 
Kiss  the  sweet  Cross,  and  in  thy  heart 

Sing  of  the  Eternal  Years. 

He  practises  all  virtue  well, 

Who  his  own  Cross  reveres, 
And  lives  in  the  familiar  thought 


Of  these  Eternal  Years. 


F.  W.   Faber. 


Sttfimtsmou  in  <Sorroto-  177 


THE    COMPLAINT   OF   A    PILGRIM. 

"  /^V  LORD,  my  God,  the  way  is  rough  and  long ; 

^^      And  I  through  weariness  am  faint  and  failing." 
"  I  am  thy  Staff,  and  I  will  strengthen  thee, 

Though  earthly  help  is  vain  and  unavailing.'' 

"  There  is  no  water  in  this  weary  land, 

While  thirst  consumes  my  parched  and  fainting  soul." 
"  Come  unto  Me  !  of  living  streams  the  Fount \ 

I  will  refresh  thee  ;  I  will  make  thee  whole. 

"  Fold  not  the  darkness  fondly  round  thy  heart, 
Think  of  My  mercy  sweet,  and  comfort  thee, 

My  poor,  unworthy  Child  ;  for  Mine  thou  art, 
And  sin  alone  can  snatch  My  Child  from  Me. 

"  I  leave  thee  never ;  thou  art  not  alone, 

And  with  thine  own  and  thee  Mine  angels  dwell : 

Possess  thy  soul  in  patience  ;  freely  give 
Me  love  for  Love,  and  all  shall  yet  be  well. 

"  The  time  is  short.     They  that  now  weep,  ere  long 

Shall  be  as  though  they  wept  not ;  they  that  mourn 
Be  comforted,  for  I  will  comfort  them  ; 
'  And  sweet  shall  be  their  glad  thanksgiving  song." 

Elia.     From  "  Lyra  Mystica." 


178  cSursum  (ftorfcau 


SONG   OF    RESIGNATION. 

THOU  sweet,  beloved  Will  of  God, 
My  anchor-ground,  my  fortress-hill, 
The  spirit's  silent  fair  abode, 
In  thee  I  hide  me  and  am  still. 

O  Will,  that  wiliest  good  alone, 

Lead  thou  the  way,  thou  guidest  best ; 

A  silent  child,  I  follow  on, 

And  trusting  lean  upon  thy  breast. 

God's  will  doth  make  the  bitter  sweet, 

And  all  is  good  when  it  is  done  ; 
Unless  God's  will  doth  hallow  it, 

The  glory  of  all  joy  is  gone. 

And  if  in  gloom  I  see  thee  not, 

I  lean  upon  thy  love  unknown  ; 
In  me  thy  blessed  will  is  wrought, 

If  I  will  nothing  of  my  own. 

O  Will,  in  me  thy  work  be  done, 

For  time  and  for  eternity  ; 
Give  joy  or  sorrow,  —  all  is  one 

To  the  blest  soul  that  loveth  thee. 

Gerhard  Tersteegen. 


Submission  in  <£orroto»  179 


ART   THOU    WEARY? 


ART  thou  weary,  art  thou  languid, 
Art  thou  sore  distrest  ? 
"  Come  to  me,"  saith  One,  "ancj  coming 
Be  at  rest." 


Hath  he  marks  to  lead  me  to  him, 

If  he  be  my  guide  ? 
"  In  his  feet  and  hands  are  wound-prints  ; 
And  his  side.  " 

Is  there  diadem,  as  monarch, 
That  his  brow  adorns  ? 
, "  Yea,  a  crown,  in  very  surety, 
But  of  thorns." 

If  I  find  him,  if  I  follow, 

What  his  guerdon  here  ? 
"  Many  a  sorrow,  many  a  labor, 
Many  a  tear." 

If  I  still  hold  closely  to  him, 

What  hath  he  at  last  ? 
"  Sorrow  vanquished,  labor  ended, 
Jordan  passed  !  " 


i8o  <Sunmm  Gtortrau 

If  I  ask  him  to  receive  me, 

Will  he  say  me  nay  ? 
"  Not  till  earth,  and  not  till  heaven, 
Pass  away ! " 

Finding,  following,  keeping,  struggling, 

Is  he  sure  to  bless  ? 
"  Angels,  martyrs,  prophets,  virgins, 
Answer,  Yes  !  " 

John  Mason  Neale. 
From  the  Greek  of  Stephen  the  Sabaite. 


OUR   STRONGHOLD    OF   HOPE. 


G( 


1 OD  liveth  ever ! 
Wherefore,  Soul,  despair  thou  never ! 
Our  God  is  good,  in  every  place 

His  love  is  known,  His  help  is  found, 
His  mighty  arm  and  tender  grace 

Bring  good  from  ills  that  hem  us  round  ; 
Easier  than  we  think  can  He 
Turn  to  joy  our  agony. 
Soul,  remember  'mid  thy  pains, 
God  o'er  all  for  ever  reigns. 


Submission  in  Sorroto-  1S1 

God  liveth  ever  ! 
Wherefore,  Soul,  despair  thou  never ! 
He  who  can  earth  and  heaven  control, 

Who  spreads  the  clouds  o'er  sea  and  land, 
Whose  presence  fills  the  mighty  Whole, 
In  each  true  heart  is  close  at  hand  ; 
Love  Him,  He  will  surely  send 
Help  and  joy  that  never  end. 
Soul,  remember  in  thy  pains, 
God  o'er  all  for  ever  reigns. 

God  liveth  ever ! 
Wherefore,  Soul,  despair  thou  never  ! 
When  sins  and  follies  long  forgot 

Upon  thy  tortured  conscience  prey ; 
Oh,  come  to  God,  and  fear  Him  not, 
His  love  shall  sweep  them  all  away; 
Pains  of  hell  at  look  of  His 
Change  to  calm  content  and  bliss. 
Soul,  remember  in  thy  pains 
God  o'er  all  for  ever  reigns. 

God  liveth  ever ! 
Wherefore,  Soul,  despair  thou  never ! 
Those  whom  the  thoughtless  world  forsakes, 

Who  stand  bewildered  with  their  woe, 
God  gently  to  His  bosom  takes, 

And  bids  them  all  His  fulness  know. 


1 82  cSunmm  (ftortra- 

In  thy  sorrows'  swelling  flood, 
Own  His  hand  who  seeks  thy  good. 
Soul,  forget  not  in  thy  pains 
God  o'er  all  for  ever  reigns. 

God  liveth  ever  ! 
Wherefore,  Soul,  despair  thou  never  ! 
What  though  thou  tread  with  bleeding  feet 

A  thorny  path  of  grief  and  gloom  ? 
Thy  God  will  choose  the  way  most  meet 
To  lead  thee  heavenwards,  lead  thee  home. 
For  this  life's  long  night  of  sadness 
He  will  give  thee  peace  and  gladness. 
Soul,  remember  in  thy  pains 
God  o'er  all  for  ever  reigns. 

J.    F.    ZlHN. 


TRIALS. 

TRIALS  must  and  will  befall ; 
But  with  humble  faith  to  see 
Love  inscribed  upon  them  all,  — 
This  is  happiness  to  me. 

Trials  make  the  promise  sweet  ; 

Trials  give  new  life  to  prayer ; 
Trials  bring  me  to  His  feet, 

Lay  me  low,  and  keep  me  there. 

William  Cowper. 


Submission  in  <Sorrofch  183 


WALDENSIAN    HYMN. 

WHEN  clouds  are  hovering  o'er  us, 
And  tempests  chafe  the  sea ; 
When  death  frowns  dark  before  us, 
Where  shall  Thy  people  flee  ? 
Where  shall  the  heart 
Its  fears  impart  ? 
To  Thee,  our  God,  to  Thee  ! 

Safe,  safe  amidst  the  hurricane 
Thy  servants  shall  not  fear ; 
The  rending  sky,  the  roaring  main 
Are  music  to  the  ear  : 
For  He  who  binds 
The  waves  and  winds, 
Our  God,  is  ever  near. 

Our  frail  bark  shall  not  founder ; 

Subdued  at  Thy  behest, 
The  storm  that  howls  around  her 
Thy  look  can  lull  to  rest ; 
Our  faith  in  Thee 
The  helm  shall  be,  — 
The  sunshine  of  the  breast. 

William  Beattie.     tS66. 


1 84  Stinmm  (ftorfta- 


LOVE    OF    THE    CROSS. 

S^i  FATHER  !  let  me  bear  the  cross  ; 
^S     Make  it  my  daily  food  ; 
Though  with  it  Thou  dost  send  the  loss 
Of  every  other  good. 

Take  house  and  lands  and  earthly  fame,  — 

To  all  I  am  resigned  ; 
But  let  me  make  one  earnest  claim  : 

Leave,  leave  the  Cross  behind ! 

I  know  it  costs  me  many  tears, 

But  they  are  tears  of  bliss ; 
And  moments  there  outweigh  the  years 

Of  selfish  happiness. 

The  Cross  is  Love,  to  action  given, 

Love  "  seeking  not  its  own  ;  " 
But  finding  truth  and  peace  and  heaven 

In  good  to  others  shown. 

The  Cross  cloth  live  in  God's  great  life, 

In  Christ's  dear  heart  doth  shine  ; 
And  how,  without  its  pains  and  strife, 

Shall  God  and  Christ  be  mine  ? 

Thomas  C.  Upham. 


Suimtemon  in  Sorroto-  185 


WHAT    MY    FRIEND    SAID    TO    ME. 

TROUBLE  ?  clear  friend,  I  know  her  not.    God  sent 
His  angel  Sorrow  on  my  heart  to  lay 

Her  hand  in  benediction,  and  to  say, 
"  Restore,  O  child,  that  which  thy  Father  lent, 
For  He  doth  now  recall  it,"  long  ago. 

His  blessed  angel  Sorrow  !     She  has  walked 

For  years  beside  me,  and  we  two  have  talked 
As  chosen  friends  together.     Thus  I  know 
Trouble  and  Sorrow  are  not  near  of  kin. 

Trouble  distrusteth  God,  and  ever  wears 

Upon  her  brow  the  seal  of  many  cares  ; 
But  Sorrow  oft  has  deepest  peace  within. 

She  sits  with  Patience  in  perpetual  calm, 
Waiting  till  Heaven  shall  send  the  healing  balm. 

Dublin  University  Magazine. 

FOREBODING. 

WHAT  weight  is  this  which  presses  on  my  soul  ? 
Powerless  to  rise,  I  sink  amidst  the  dust : 
The  days  in  solemn  cycle  o'er  me  roll, 
While,  praying,  I  can  only  wait  and  trust. 

Trust  the  dear  Hand  that  all  my  life  has  led 

Through  pastures  green,  by  waters  pure  and  still  ; 

If  now  He  leads  me  through  dark  ways  and  dread, 
Shall  I  dare  murmur,  whatsoe'er  His  will  ? 

Lippincott's  Magazine. 


1 86  <Suamm  (ftortra* 


THE    CHASTENING  OF   THE    LORD. 

O   SPECK  in  creation  ! 
How  canst  thou  complain, 
Though  sore  thy  probation 

Of  sorrow  and  pain  ? 
Forgetting  that  life 

Is  no  season  of  ease, 
But  of  watching  and  strife, 
Till  the  battle  shall  cease. 

Those  whom  I  hold  dearest 

I  chasten  and  prove 
By  trials  severest,  — 

The  sign  of  my  love  : 
By  the  sharpness  of  pain 

Their  faith  is  made  sure, 
Till  the  joys  they  attain 

That  for  ever  endure. 

For  nought  canst  thou  tender 

More  dear  to  thy  Lord 
Than  thus  to  surrender 

Thyself  to  His  word  ; 
With  never  a  moan 

All  thy  sufferings  bear  ; 
Bring  those  to  His  throne. 

As  thine  offering  there. 

From  an  Ancient  Latin  Poem. 
Tr.  by  J.  Gregory  Smith. 


<Sufimtsm'ou  in  Sorroto-  187 


THY   WILL   BE    DONE. 

MY  God  and  Father,  while  I  stray, 
Far  from  my  home,  in  life's  rough  way, 
Oh !  teach  me  from  my  heart  to  say, 
"  Thy  will  be  done  !  " 

Though  dark  my  path  and  sad  my  lot, 
Let  me  "  be  still,"  and  murmur  not ; 
Or  breathe  the  prayer  divinely  taught, 
"Thy  will  be  done!" 

What  though  in  lonely  grief  I  sigh 
For  friends  beloved,  no  longer  nigh, 
Submissive  still  would  I  reply, 
"  Thy  will  be  done  !  " 

Though  Thou  hast  called  me  to  resign 
What  most  I  prized,  it  ne'er  was  mine : 
I  have  but  yielded  what  was  Thine  :  — 
"  Thy  will  be  clone  !  " 

Should  grief  or  sickness  waste  away 
My  life  in  premature  decay  ; 
My  Father  !  still  I  strive  to  say, 
"  Thy  will  be  done  !  " 


1 88  Sttrsttm  (ftortra* 

Let  but  my  fainting  heart  be  blest 
With  Thy  sweet  Spirit  for  its  guest ; 
My  God  !  to  Thee  I  leave  the  rest : 
"  Thy  will  be  done  !  " 

Renew  my  will  from  day  to  day  ! 
Blend  it  with  Thine  ;  and  take  away 
All  that  now  makes  it  hard  to  say, 
"  Thy  will  be  done  !  " 

Charlotte  Elliott.     1836. 

SUBMISSION. 

GOD'S  right-hand  angel,  bright  and  calm, — 
Christ's  strengthener  in  the  agony,  — 
Teach  us  the  meaning  of  that  psalm 
Of  fulness  only  known  by  thee  : 
"  Thy  will  be  done  !  "     We  sit  alone, 
And  grief  within  our  heart  grows  strong 
With  passionate  moaning,  till  thou  come, 
And  turn  it  to  a  song. 

Come  when  the  days  go  heavily, 
Weighed  down  with  burdens  hard  to  bear  ; 
When  joy  and  hope  fail  utterly, 
And  leave  us  fronted  by  despair. 
Come  not  with  flattering  earthly  light, 
But  with  those  clear  grand  eyes  that  see 
Beyond  the  dark,  beyond  the  bright, 
Straight  toward  Eternity. 


Submission  in  Sorvoto*  189 

Teach  us  to  work  when  work  seems  vain, 
This  is  half  victory  over  fate,  — 
To  match  ourselves  against  our  pain  \ 
The  rest  is  done  when  we  can  wait. 
Unseal  our  eyes  to  see  how  rife 
With  bloom  this  thorny  path  may  be  ; 
And  how  it  leads  to  heights  of  life 
Which  only  thou  canst  see. 

Content  thee  (so  the  angel  saith) : 

Thy  minor  makes  the  triumph  strain 

Sound  sweeter  on  celestial  breath, 

And  God  has  use  for  all  thy  pain. 

His  joy  thy  struggling  soul  may  reach  ; 

From  the  strong  slain  comes  sweetness  still  : 

And  God  lets  suffering  only  teach 

Some  best  revealings  of  His  will. 

Then  strike  within  our  hearts  the  key ! 
Though  only  sorrow's  note  it  give, 
Yet  fit  us  for  Thy  harmony, 
And  teach  us  how  to  live  ! 
O  patient  Watcher  over  all ! 
If  broken  lives  may  best  complete 
Thy  circle,  let  our  fragments  fall 
An  offering  at  Thy  feet. 

Carl  Spencer. 


190  <Sursum  (Jtorfcau 


PER   PACEM   AD    LUCEM. 

T  DO  not  ask,  O  Lord,  that  life  may  be 
-*■  A  pleasant  road  ; 

I  do  not  ask  that  Thou  wouldst  take  from  me 
Aught  of  its  load  ; 

For  one  thing  only,  Lord,  dear  Lord,  I  plead, 

Lead  me  aright  — 
Though  strength  should  falter,  and  though  heart  should 
bleed  — 

Through  Peace  to  Light. 

I  do  not  ask  my  cross  to  understand, 

My  way  to  see  ; 
Better  in  darkness  just  to  feel  Thy  hand, 

And  follow  Thee. 

Joy  is  like  restless  day ;  but  peace  divine 

Like  quiet  night ; 
Lead  me,  O  Lord,  —  till  perfect  Day  shall  shine, 

Through  Peace  to  Light 

Adelaide  A.  Procter. 


<Strtmtggion  ftt  Sorroto-  191 


AS    THOU    WILT. 

AS  Thou  wilt,  my  God !  I  ever  say ; 
What  Thou  wilt  is  ever  best  for  me ; 
What  have  I  to  do  with  earthly  care, 

Since  to-morrow  I  may  leave  with  Thee  ? 
Lord,  Thou  knowest,  I  am  not  my  own, 
All  my  hope  and  help  depend  on  Thee  alone. 

As  Thou  wilt !  still  I  can  believe, 
Never  did  the  word  of  promise  fail  ; 

Faith  can  hold  it  fast,  and  feel  it  sure, 

Though  temptations  cloud  and  fears  assail. 

Why  art  thou  disquieted,  my  soul, 

When  thy  Father  knows  and  rules  the  whole  ? 

As  Thou  wilt!  still  I  can  endure  ;  — 
Patiently  my  daily  cross  can  bear ; 

Why  should  I  complain,  a  pardoned  child, 
If  the  children's  portion  here  I  share  ? 

As  Thou  wilt,  my  Father  and  my  God  ! 

I  can  drink  the  cup,  and  kiss  the  rod. 

As  Thou  wilt !  still  I  can  hope  on,  — 

Sunshine  may  return  when  storms  have  past ; 

Thine  All-seeing  Eye  of  sleepless  love 
Watches  o'er  my  path  from  first  to  last. 


192  Sursum  <£orfca* 

When  Thou  wilt,  upon  the  desert  plain 
Springs  may  rise  anew,  and  rivers  flow  again. 

As  Thou  wilt  !  all  life's  journey  through, 

To  Thy  will  my  own  I  would  resign  ; 
If  on  earth  I  have  but  little  store, 

Be  it  so  :  all  heaven  shall  be  mine  ; 
Or  if  but  Thyself,  my  God,  art  given, 
Nothing  more  I  need,  or  ask  in  earth  or  heaven. 

As  Thou  wilt !  when  Thine  hour  has  come, 
Let  Thy  servant,  Lord,  in  peace  depart ; 

Good  it  is  to  love  and  serve  Thee  here, 
Better  to  be  with  Thee  where  Thou  art. 

When  or  where  or  how  the  call  may  be, 

It  will  not  come  too  early  or  too  late  for  me. 

As  Thou  wilt,  O  Lord  !  I  ask  no  more. 

With  the  promise,  Faith  pursues  her  way ; 
Patience  can  endure  through  Sorrow's  night  ; 

Hope  can  look  beyond,  to  Heaven's  own  day ; 
Love  can  wait  and  trust  and  labor  still : 
Life  and  death  shall  be  according  to  Thy  will ! 

Neumister. 
"  Hymns  from  the  Land  of  Luther." 


Sidnuismou  in  «£orroto.  193 


THE    GUIDING    HAND. 

IS  this  the  way,  my  Father  ?  —  'Tis,  my  child. 
Thou  must  pass  through  this  tangled,  dreary  wild, 
If  thou  wouldst  reach  the  city  undented, 

Thy  peaceful  home  above. 

But  enemies  are  round. — Yes,  child,  I  know 
That  where  thou  least  expectest  thou'lt  find  a  foe  \ 
But  victor  thou  shalt  prove  o'er  all  below, 
Only  seek  strength  above. 

My  Father,  it  is  dark.  —  Child,  take  my  hand, 
Cling  close  to  me  ;  I'll  lead  thee  through  the  land ; 
Trust  my  all-seeing  care,  so  shalt  thou  stand 
'Midst  glory  bright  above. 

My  footsteps  seem  to  slide.  —  Child,  only  raise 
Thine  eye  to  me  ;  then  in  these  slippery  ways 
I  will  hold  up  thy  goings  ;  thou  shalt  praise 
Me  for  each  step  above. 

O  Father,  I  am  weary.  —  Lean  thy  head 
Upon  my  breast.     It  was  my  love  that  spread 
Thy  rugged  path  ;  hope  on,  till  I  have  said  : 
"  Now  come  and  rest  above." 

Anonymous. 
13 


i94  cSursum  ttotfta* 


THY   WILL   BE    DONE. 

WE  see  not,  know  not ;  all  our  way- 
Is  night,  —  with  Thee  alone  is  day  : 
From  out  the  torrent's  troubled  drift, 
Above  the  storm  our  prayers  we  lift, 
Thy  will  be  done  ! 

The  flesh  may  fail,  the  heart  may  faint, 
But  who  are  we  to  make  complaint, 
Or  dare  to  plead,  in  times  like  these, 
The  weakness  of  our  love  of  ease  ? 
Thy  will  be  done  ! 

We  take  with  solemn  thankfulness 
Our  burden  up,  nor  ask  it  less, 
And  count  it  joy  that  even  we 
May  suffer,  serve,  or  wait  for  Thee, 
Whose  will  be  done  ! 

Strike,  Thou  the  Master,  we  Thy  keys, 
The  anthem  of  the  destinies ! 
The  minor  of  Thy  loftier  strain, 
Our  hearts  shall  breathe  the  old  refrain, 
Thy  will  be  done  ! 

John  G.  Whittier. 


Submission  in  Sorroto*  195 


'TIS    ALL   THE    SAME    TO    ME. 

'r  I  "TS  all  the  same  to  me, — 

J-        Sorrow,  and  strife,  and  pining  want,  and  pain  ! 
Whate'er  it  is,  it  cometh  all  from  Thee, 

And  'tis  not  mine  to  doubt  Thee  or  complain. 

Thou  knowest  what  is  best ; 

And  who  but  Thee,  O  God,  hath  power  to  know  ? 
In  Thy  great  will  my  trusting  heart  shall  rest ; 

Beneath  that  will  my  humble  head  shall  bow. 

Then  what  Thou  pleasest  send  : 

To  order  all  my  destiny  is  Thine. 
With  Thee,  in  all  Thy  purposes,  to  blend 

In  unity  of  heart,  let  that  be  mine. 

No  questions  will  I  ask. 

Do  what  Thou  wilt,  my  Father  and  my  God  : 
Obedience  is  my  consecrated  task, 

Though  Thou  shouldst  lead  me  where  Thy  martyrs 
trod. 

Alike,  all  pleases  well. 

Since  living  faith  hath  made  it  understood,  — 
Within  the  shadowy  folds  of    sorrow  dwell 


The  seeds  of  life  and  everlasting  good. 


Thomas  C.  Upham. 


196  eSursum  <£ortra* 


REMEMBER   ME. 

"Remember  me,  O  my  God,  for  good"  — Neh.  xiii.  31. 

MY  God,  forget  me  not 
In  sorrow's  evil  day, 
When  dark  the  shadows  fall 

Around  my  pilgrim  way. 
To  Thy  sure  word  of  hope 
Let  me  for  refuge  flee  ; 
In  mercy,  then,  for  good, 
O  Lord,  remember  me  ! 

My  God,  forget  me  not, 

When  low  before  Thy  throne 
I  seek  to  spread  my  cares, 

And  make  my  wishes  known. 
A  Father's  gracious  face, 

By  faith,  then  let  me  see ; 
I  am  Thy  loving  child,  — 

O  Lord,  remember  me ! 

My  God,  forget  me  not, 

When  my  poor  soul  is  dumb, 
And  only  sighs  and  tears, 

Instead  of  words,  will  come. 
Though  even  sighs  should  cease, 

Desires  are  known  to  Thee  ;  — 
In  pity,  then,  and  love, 

O  Lord,  remember  me ! 


<Sufimt8Stcw  in  Sorroto*  197 

My  God,  forget  me  not, 

When  all  around  is  bright ; 
Undazzled  let  me  walk 

Amid  the  sunshine  light. 
Give  me  a  quiet  mind, 

From  earthly  bondage  free ; 
Be  Thou  my  chief  est  joy,  — 

O  Lord,  remember  me  ! 

My  God,  forget  me  not, 

When  this  forgetful  heart 
Is  tempted  from  Thy  ways 

To  wander  and  depart. 
Give  me  to  find  no  rest 

Till  I  return  to  Thee, 
In  lowly  penitence,  — 

O  Lord,  remember  me  ! 

My  God,  forget  me  not, 

When  my  last  hour  is  near, 
And  all  the  things  of  earth 

Grow  dim  or  disappear. 
Through  the  dark  valley's  shade 

Thy  glory  let  me  see  ; 
My  light  in  life,  in  death,  — 

O  Lord,  remember  me  ! 

W.  vox    BlANOWSKY. 

From  "  Hymns  from  the  Land  of  Luther.'' 


198  cSumum  <£orirau 


BE    STILL! 

PEACE  !     Be  still ! 
In  this  night  of  sorrow  bow, 
O  my  heart !  contend  not  thou  ! 
What  befalls  thee  is  God's  will  — 
Peace  !     Be  still ! 

Peace  !     Be  still ! 

All  thy  murmuring  words  are  vain,  —  . 
God  will  make  the  riddle  plain  : 
Wait  His  word  and  bear  His  will.  — 
Peace  !     Be  still  ! 

Hold  thee  still ! 

Though  the  good  Physician's  knife 
Seem  to  touch  thy  very  life, 
Death  alone  he  means  to  kill.  — 
Hold  thee  still  ! 

Shepherd  mine  ! 
From  thy  fulness  give  me  still 
Faith  to  do  and  bear  Thy  will, 
Till  the  morning  light  shall  shine, 
Shepherd  mine  ! 


From  the  German. 


cSufimtsstou  ftt  Sovroto*  199 

SONNET. 

COUNT  each  affliction,  whether  light  or  grave, 
God's  messenger  sent  down  to  thee.     Do  thou 
With  courtesy  receive  him  :  rise  and  bow  ; 
And,  ere  his  shadow  pass  thy  threshold,  crave 
Permission  first  his  heavenly  feet  to  lave, 
Then  lay  before  him  all  thou  hast.     Allow 
No  cloud  of  passion  to  usurp  thy  brow, 
Or  mar  thy  hospitality,  no  wave 
Of  mortal  tumult  to  obliterate 
Thy  soul's  marmoreal  calmness.     Grief  should  be 
Like  joy,  majestic,  equable,  sedate, 
Confirming,  cleansing,  raising,  making  free, 
Strong  to  consume  small  troubles ;  to  commend 
Great  thoughts,  grave  thoughts,  thoughts  lasting  to  the 

en0-'  Aubrey  De  Verb. 

THE   WILL    OF    GOD. 

WHEN  obstacles  and  trials  seem 
Like  prison-walls  to  be, 
I  do  the  little  I  can  do, 

And  leave  the  rest  to  Thee. 

Ill  that  He  blesses  is  our  good, 

And  unblest  good  is  ill ; 
And  all  is  right  that  seems  most  wrong, 

If  it  be  His  sweet  Will  ! 

F.  W.  Fabsr. 


2oo  Sutrsum  ©ortta* 


SOVEREIGN    RULER   OF   THE    SKIES. 

SOVEREIGN  Ruler  of  the  skies, 
Ever  gracious,  ever  wise, 
All  my  times  are  in  Thy  hand, 
All  events  at  Thy  command. 

Times  of  sickness,  times  of  health, 
Times  of  penury  and  wealth ; 
Times  of  trial  and  of  grief, 
Times  of  triumph  and  relief. 

0  Thou  Gracious,  Wise,  and  Just ! 
In  Thy  hands  my  life  I  trust : 
Have  I  something  dearer  still  ? 

1  resign  it  to  Thy  will. 

Thee  at  all  times  will  I  bless ; 
Having  Thee,  I  all  possess ; 
How  can  I  bereaved  be, 
Since  I  cannot  part  with  Thee  ? 

John  Ryland.     1777. 

"THE    E'EN   BRINGS    A'    HAME." 

UPON  the  hills  the  wind  is  sharp  and  cold, 
The  sweet  young  grasses  wither  on  the  wold, 
And  we,  O  Lord,  have  wandered  from  Thy  fold  ; 
But  evening  brings  us  home. 


Sufimtsmou  in  Sorroto*  201 

Among  the  mists  we  stumbled,  and  the  rocks 
Where  the  brown  lichen  whitens,  and  the  fox 
Watches  the  straggler  from  the  scattered  flocks  ; 
But  evening  brings  us  home. 

The  sharp  thorns  prick  us,  and  our  tender  feet 
Are  cut  and  bleeding,  and  the  lambs  repeat 
Their  pitiful  complaints,  —  oh,  rest  is  sweet 
When  evening  brings  us  home  ! 

We  have  been  wounded  by  the  hunters'  darts ; 
Our  eyes  are  very  heavy,  and  our  hearts 
Search  for  Thy  coming  ;  when  the  light  departs, 
And  evening  brings  us  home. 

The  darkness  gathers.     Through  the  gloom  no  star 
Rises  to  guide  us.     We  have  wandered  far,  — 
Without  Thy  lamp  we  know  not  where  we  are  ; 
At  evening,  bring  us  home. 

The  clouds  are  round  us,  and  the  snow-drifts  thicken  \ 
O  Thou,  dear  Shepherd  !  leave  us  not  to  sicken 
In  the  w^ste  night,  our  tardy  footsteps  quicken  ; 
At  evening,  bring  us  home. 

Eraser's  Magazine. 


202  <Sursum  ©ortra* 


MIDWINTER. 

MIDWINTER  comes  to-morrow, 
My  welcome  guest  to  be  : 
White-haired,  wide-winged  Sorrow, 

With  Christmas  gifts  for  me. 
Thy  angel,  God  !  —  I  thank  Thee  still. 
Thy  will  be  done,  —  Thy  better  will  ! 

I  thank  Thee,  Lord  !  —  the  whiteness 

Of  winter  on  my  heart 
Shall  keep  some  glint  of  brightness, 

Though  sun  and  stars  depart. 
Thou  smilest  on  the  snow  :  Thy  will 
Is  dread  and  drear,  but  lovely  still. 

W.  J.  Linton. 

PILGRIM    OF    EARTH. 

PILGRIM  of  earth,  who  art  journeying  to  heaven  ! 
Heir  of  eternal  life  !  Child  of  the  day ! 
Cared  for,  watched  over,  beloved,  and  forgiven  — 
Art  thou  discouraged  because  of  the  way  ? 

Weary  and  thirsty  —  no  water-brook  near  thee, 
Press  on,  nor  faint  at  the  length  of  the  way; 

The  God  of  thy  life  will  assuredly  hear  thee,  — 
He  will  provide  thee  with  strength  for  the  day. 


Submission  ft!  Sorroto.  203 

Break  through  the  brambles  and  briers  that  obstruct  thee, 
Dread  not  the  gloom  and  the  blackness  of  night ; 

Lean  on  the  Hand  that  will  safely  conduct  thee, 
Trust  to  His  eye  to  whom  darkness  is  light. 

Be  trustful,  be  steadfast,  whatever  betide  thee  ; 

Only  one  thing  do  thou  ask  of  the  Lord,  — 
Grace  to  go  forward  wherever  He  guide  thee, 

Simply  believing  the  truth  of  His  word. 


Anonymous. 


WHEREFORE  ? 

OTHOU  !  whose  gently  chastening  hand 
In  mercy  deals  the  blow, 
Make  but  Thy  servant  understand 
Wherefore  Thou  lay'st  me  low ! 

I  ask  Thee  not  the  rod  to  spare, 

While  thus  Thy  love  I  see  ; 
But,  oh,  let  every  suffering  bear 

Some  message,  Lord,  from  Thee  ! 

Oh,  silence  Thou  this  murmuring  will, 

Nor  bid  Thy  rough  wind  stay, 
Till  with  a  furnace  hotter  still 

My  dross  is  purged  away ! 


E.  M. 


^ncfiitejSjaL 


HYMN    FOR   SICKNESS. 

GOD  !  whom  I  as  Love  have  known, 
Thou  hast  sickness  laid  on  me, 
And  these  pains  are  sent  of  Thee, 
Under  which  I  burn  and  moan  ; 
All  that  plagues  my  body  now, 
All  that  wasteth  me  away, 
Pressing  on  me  night  and  day, 
Love  ordains,  for  Love  art  Thou  ! 

Suffering  is  the  work  now  sent ; 
Nothing  can  I  do  but  lie 
Suffering  as  the  hours  go  by ; 

All  my  powers  to  this  are  bent : 

Suffering  is  my  gain  ;  I  bow 
To  my  heavenly  Father's  will, 
And  receive  it  hushed  and  still ; 

Suffering  is  my  worship  now. 


cStcfcncssL  205 

Let  my  soul  beneath  her  load 

Faint  not,  through  the  o'erwearied  flesh ; 

Let  her  hourly  drink  afresh 
Love  and  peace  from  Thee,  my  God. 
Let  the  body's  pain  and  smart 

Hinder  not  her  flight  to  thee, 

Nor  the  calm  Thou  givest  me  ; 
Keep  Thou  up  the  sinking  heart, 

Grant  me  never  to  complain, 

Make  me  to  Thy  will  resigned, 

With  a  quiet  humble  mind, 
Cheerful  on  my  bed  of  pain. 
Wholly  Thine,  —  my  faith  is  sure, 

Whether  life  or  death  be  mine, 

I  am  safe  if  I  am  Thine  ; 
For  'tis  Love  that  makes  me  pure. 

RlCHTER.       1713. 


FOR   ONE   VISITED   WITH    SICKNESS. 

OTHOU  !  whose  wise,  paternal  Love 
Hath  brought  my  active  vigor  down, 
Thy  will  I  thankfully  approve  ; 

And,  prostrate  at  Thy  gracious  throne, 
I  offer  up  my  life's  remains, 
I  choose  the  state  my  God  ordains. 


206  <Sursum  (ftortra- 

Cast  as  a  broken  vessel  by, 
Thy  work  I  can  no  longer  do  ; 

Yet  while  a  daily  death  I  die, 

Thy  power  I  may  in  weakness  show  : 

My  patience  may  Thy  glory  raise, 

My  speechless  woe  proclaim  Thy  praise. 

But  since  without  Thy  Spirit's  might 
Thou  know'st  I  nothing  can  endure, 

The  help  I  ask  in  Jesu's  right, 

The  strength  He  did  for  me  procure, 

Father,  abundantly  impart, 

And  arm  with  love  my  feeble  heart. 

This  single  good  I  humbly  crave  ; 

This  single  good  on  me  bestow  • 
And  when  my  one  desire  I  have, 

Let  every  other  blessing  go. 
Ah,  do  not,  Lord,  my  suit  deny ! 
I  only  want  to  love,  and  die. 

Or  let  me  live,  of  love  possessed, 
In  weakness,  weariness,  and  pain  ; 

The  anguish  of  my  laboring  breast, 
The  daily  cross  I  still  sustain 

For  Him  that  languished  on  the  tree, 

But  lived,  before  He  died,  for  me. 


Charles  Wesley. 


Stcfcueas*  207 


HE    DOETH    ALL   THINGS    WELL. 

HOPED  that  with  the  brave  and  strong 
J-      My  portioned  task  might  lie  ) 
To  toil  amid  the  busy  throng, 

With  purpose  pure  and  high ; 
But  God  has  fixed  another  part, 

And  He  has  fixed  it  well  ; 
I  said  so  with  my  breaking  heart 

When  first  this  anguish  fell. 

These  weary  hours  will  not  be  lost, 

These  days  of  misery, 
These  nights  of  darkness,  tempest-tossed, 

Can  I  but  turn  to  Thee  ; 
With  secret  labor  to  sustain 

In  patience  every  blow, 
To  gather  fortitude  from  pain, 

And  holiness  from  woe. 

If  Thou  shouldst  bring  me  back  to  life, 

More  humble  I  should  be, 
More  wise,  more  strengthened  for  the  strife, 

More  apt  to  lean  on  Thee ; 
Should  death  be  standing  at  the  gate, 

Thus  should  I  keep  my  vow  ; 
But,  Lord  !  whatever  be  my  fate, 

Oh,  let  me  serve  Thee  now  ! 

Anne  Bronte. 


2o8  <Sunmm  <£ortra* 


RESIGNATION. 

OLORD,  my  best  desire  fulfil, 
And  help  me  to  resign 
Life,  health,  and  comfort  to  Thy  will, 
And  make  Thy  pleasure  mine. 

Why  should  I  shrink  from  Thy  command, 

Whose  love  forbids  my  fears, 
Or  tremble  at  the  gracious  hand 

That  wipes  away  my  tears  ? 

No,  rather  let  me  freely  yield 

What  most  I  prize  to  Thee, 
Who  never  hast  a  good  withheld, 

Or  wilt  withhold,  from  me. 

William  Cowper.     1779. 


ALL,    ALL    IS    KNOWN    TO    THEE. 

li  When  my  spirit  was  overzuhelmed  within  me,  then   Thou  knewest 
my  path" 

MY  God,  whose  gracious  pity  I  may  claim, 
Calling  Thee  Father,  sweet,  endearing  name ! 
The  sufferings  of  this  weak  and  weary  frame, 
All,  all  are  known  to  Thee. 


Sictmcss*  209 

From  human  eyes  'tis  better  to  conceal 
Much  that  I  suffer,  much  I  hourly  feel ; 
But,  oh  !  this  thought  doth  tranquillize  and  heal,  — 
All,  all  is  known  to  Thee. 

Each  secret  conflict  with  indwelling  sin, 
Each  sickening  fear  I  ne'er  the  prize  shall  win, 
Each  pang  from  irritation,  turmoil,  din,  — 
All,  all  are  known  to  Thee. 

When  in  the  morning  unrefreshed  I  wake, 
Or  in  the  night  but  little  sleep  can  take, 
This  brief  appeal  submissively  I  make,  — 
All,  all  is  known  to  Thee. 

Nay,  all  by  Thee  is  ordered,  chosen,  planned  : 
Each  drop  that  fills  my  daily  cup  ;  Thy  hand 
Prescribes  for  ills  none  else  can  understand; 
All,  all  is  known  to  Thee. 

And  this  continued  feebleness,  this  state 
Which  seems  to  unnerve  and  incapacitate, 
Will  work  the  cure  my  hopes  and  prayers  await, 
That  can  I  leave  to  Thee. 

Adelaide  L.  Newton.     1S24-1S54. 


14 


2io  Surmtm  ©ortra- 


RESTING    ON    GOD. 

WHEN  languor  and  disease  invade 
This  trembling  house  of  clay, 
'Tis  sweet  to  look  beyond  the  cage, 
And  long  to  fly  away. 

Sweet  on  His  faithfulness  to  rest, 

Whose  love  can  never  end ; 
Sweet  on  His  covenant  of  grace 

For  all  things  to  depend. 

Sweet  in  the  confidence  of  faith 

To  trust  His  firm  decrees  ; 
Sweet  to  lie  passive  in  His  hand^ 

And  know  no  will  but  His. 

If  such  the  sweetness  of  the  stream, 
What  must  the  Fountain  be, 

Where  saints  and  angels  draw  their  bliss 
Immediately  from  Thee  ! 


A.    M.    TOPLADY.       1777. 


IN    SICKNESS. 


NOT  more  than  I  have  strength  to  bear, 
Thy  mercy,  Lord,  will  lay  on  me ; 
Pain  shall  not  always  last ; 
Sweet  ease  is  coming  fast. 
On  my  sick  bed,  free  from  care, 
Present  Helper !  praise  I  Thee  ! 


Sttftncsa.  211 

When  me  the  world  so  much  distraught, 
Thy  Hand  to  solitude  did  bring ; 

And,  when  the  fight  I  fled, 

To  deeper  warfare  led  ; 
And  through  pain  my  heart  hath  taught 
A  new  and  patient  song  to  sing. 

And  shall  I  drain  this  cup  of  woe  ? 

Ah,  Lord  !  Thou  knovvest  flesh  is  weak  ! 

Forgive  the  tears  that  start 

From  weary  eyes  and  heart ! 
Now  Thy  tender  pity  show, 
Give  the  patient  faith  I  seek. 

The  pain  which  racks  and  weakens  me, 
Drives  far  away  my  sleep's  soft  rest ; 

The  long  dark  nights  may  hear 

My  groans  of  grief  and  fear. 
How  poor  I  find  man's  help  to  be  ! 
But  Thou  canst  still  my  throbbing  breast ! 

Thy  will  may  choose  and  give  command 

How  long  the  trial  hour  shall  last  : 
And  though  on  this  dark  field 
My  whole  life-strength  should  yield, 

Passing  to  the  better  land, 

Still  my  heart  shall  hold  Thee  fast ! 

From  the  German,  tr.  by  Anna  Warner. 


2i2  <Sursum  <£ortra* 


HOPE    IS    BETTER    THAN    EASE. 

WISH  not,  dear  friends,  my  pain  away: 
Wish  me  a  wise  and  thankful  heart, 
With  God,  in  all  my  griefs,  to  stay, 
Nor  from  His  loved  correction  start. 

In  Life's  long  sickness  evermore 

Our  thoughts  are  tossing  to  and  fro  : 

We  change  our  posture  o'er  and  o'er, 
But  cannot  rest,  nor  cheat  our  woe. 

Were  it  not  better  to  lie  still, 

Let  Him  strike  home,  and  bless  the  rod ; 
Never  so  safe  as  when  our  will 

Yields  undiscerned  by  all  but  God  ? 

Thy  precious  things,  whate'er  they  be 

That  haunt  and  vex  thee,  heart  and  brain, 

Look  to  the  cross,  and  thou  shalt  see 
How  thou  mayst  turn  them  all  to  gain. 

John  Keble. 

IT    IS    GOOD    FOR    ME. 

"  Thy  people  shall  be  willing  in  the  day  of  Thy  power" 

1  WISH  ED  a  flowery  path  to  tread, 
And  thought  'twould  safely  lead  to  heaven  ; 
A  lonely  room,  a  suffering  bed, 

These  for  my  training  place  were  given. 


Stcttness-  213 

Long  I  resisted,  mourned,  complained, — 

Wished  any  other  lot  my  own  : 
Thy  purpose,  Lord,  unchanged  remained,  — 

What  Wisdom  planned,  Love  carried  on. 

Year  after  year  I  turned  away, 

But  marred  was  every  scheme  I  planned  ; 
Still  the  same  lesson,  day  by  day, 

Was  placed  before  me  by  Thy  hand. 

At  length  Thy  patient,  wondrous  love, 

Unchanging,  tender,  pitying,  strong, 
Availed  that  stubborn  heart  to  move, 

Which  had  rebelled,  alas  !  so  long. 

Then  I  was  taught  by  Thee  to  say, 

"  Do  with  me  what  to  Thee  seems  best ; 

Give,  take,  whate'er  Thou  wilt  away, 
Health,  comfort,  usefulness,  or  rest ; 

"Be  my  whole  life  in  suffering  spent ; 

But  let  me  be  in  suffering  Thine,  — 
Still,  O  my  Lord,  I  am  content, 

Thou  now  hast  made  Thy  pleasure  mine." 

Charlotte  Elliott. 


214  cSttrsum  <£ortrau 

THE    WAYSIDE  WATCHER. 

HAVE  ye  known  the  shadows  darken 
On  weary  nights  of  pain, 
And  hours  that  seem  to  lengthen 

Till  the  night  comes  round  again  ? 
The  folded  hands  seem  idle  : 

If  folded  at  His  word, 
'Tis  a  holy  service,  trust  me, 
In  obedience  to  the  Lord. 

None  shall  e'er  lack  a  service, 

Who  only  seek  His  will, 
And  He  doth  teach  His  children 

To  suffer  and  be  still. 
In  love's  deep  fount  of  treasures 

Such  precious  things  are  stored, 
Laid  up  for  you,  O  blessed, 

That  wait  upon  the  Lord  ! 

Anna   Shipton. 
MY    PSALM. 

OTHOU,  most  present  in  our  paths 
When  least  Thy  steps  we  see  ! 
Amid  these  wrecks  of  earthly  hopes 
I  breathe  my  prayer  to  Thee. 

What  though  this  house  Thy  hand  has  built 

Must  in  these  ruins  fall ! 
My  soul  shall  rise,  sustained  by  Thee, 

Serene  above  them  all. 


cSictuiesg*  215 

And  pain,  which  in  the  long,  long  hours, 

Keeps  on  by  night  and  day, 
Through  these  fast  crumbling  walls  to  Thee 

Finds  a  new  opening  way ; 

For  through  the  rents  already  made 

I  see  Thy  glorious  face, 
And  songs  unheard  by  mortal  ears 

Chant  Thy  redeeming  grace. 

Oh  !  build  anew  this  mortal  frame, 

And  make  it  serve  Thee  still, 
Or  make  these  ministries  of  pain 

Their  blessed  end  fulfil  : 

That,  held  and  chastened  by  Thy  hand, 

I  yet  may  come  to  Thee, 
Subdued  and  ripened  for  the  work 

Of  immortality. 

For  there,  upon  the  immortal  shores, 

The  throngs  in  white  array 
Come  from  these  ministries  of  pain 

To  serve  Thee  night  and  day. 

Edmund  H.  Sears. 


216  Sbuvuum  <£ortra* 


"0    LORD,    I     KNOW    THAT    IN    VERY     FAITH- 
FULNESS   THOU    HAST    AFFLICTED    ME." 

FOR  what  shall  I  praise  Thee,  my  God  and  my  King  ? 
For  what  blessings  the  tribute  of  gratitude  bring  ? 
Shall  I  praise  Thee  for  pleasure,  for  health,  and  for  ease, 
For  the  spring  of  delight,  and  the  sunshine  of  peace  ? 

Shall  I  praise   Thee  for  flowers  that  bloomed  on  my 

breast ; 
For  joys  in  perspective,  and  pleasures  possessed  ? 
For  the  spirits  that  heightened  my  day  of  delight, 
And  the  slumbers  that  sat  on  my  pillow  by  night  ? 

For  this  should  I  praise  Thee ;  but,  if  only  for  this, 
I  should  leave  half  untold  the  donation  of  bliss  : 
I  thank  Thee  for  sickness,  for  sorrow,  for  care, 
For  the  thorns  I  have  gathered,  the  anguish  I  bear,  — 

For  nights  of  anxiety,  watching,  and  tears, 

A  present  of  pain,  a  perspective  of  fears. 

I  praise  Thee,  I  bless  Thee,  my  King  and  my  God, 

For  the  good  and  the  evil  Thy  hand  hath  bestowed. 

Caroline  Wilson. 


cStCtUUSS*  217 


EVENING   PRAYER    IN    SICKNESS. 

LORD,  a  whole  long  day  of  pain 
Now  at  last  is  o'er ! 
Ah,  how  much  we  can  sustain 

I  have  felt  once  more ; 
Felt  how  frail  are  all  our  powers, 

And  how  weak  our  trust ; 
If  Thou  help  not,  these  dark  hours 
Crush  us  to  the  dust. 

Draw  my  weary  heart  away 

From  this  gloom  and  strife, 
And  these  fever-pains  allay 

With  the  dew  of  life  ; 
Thou  canst  calm  the  troubled  mind ; 

Thou  its  dread  canst  still  ; 
Teach  me  to  be  all  resigned 

To  my  Father's  will. 

Then,  if  I  must  wake  and  weep 

All  the  long  night  through, 
Thou  the  watch  with  me  wilt  keep, 

Friend  and  Guardian  true  ; 
In  the  darkness  Thou  wilt  speak 

Lovingly  with  me, 
Though  my  heart  may  vainly  seek 

Words  to  breathe  to  Thee. 


2i 8  <Surmtm  <£orTrau 

Wheresoe'er  my  couch  is  made, 

In  Thy  hands  I  lie, 
And  to  Thee  alone  for  aid 

Turns  my  restless  eye ; 
Let  my  prayer  grow  weary  never, 

Strengthen  Thou  the  oppressed ; 
In  Thy  shadow,  Lord,  for  ever, 

Let  me  gently  rest. 

Heinrich  Puchta. 


FOR  A   WAKEFUL   NIGHT. 


IVTOW  darkness  over  all  is  spread, 
-*-  ^      No  sounds  the  stillness  break ; 
Ah !  when  shall  these  sad  hours  be  fled, 
Am  I  alone  awake  ? 

Ah  no  !  I  do  not  wake  alone, 

Alone  I  do  not  sleep  : 
Around  me  ever  watcheth  One 

Who  wakes  with  those  who  weep. 


On  earth  it  is  so  dark  and  drear. 
With  Him  so  calm  and  bright 
'he  stars  in  solemn  radiance  cle 
Shine  there  through  all  our  night 


With  Him  so  calm  and  bright, 
The  stars  in  solemn  radiance  clear 


cStcfcncss.  219 

'Tis  when  the  lights  of  earth  are  gone, 

The  heavenly  glories  shine  ; 
When  other  comfort  I  have  none, 

Thy  comfort,  Lord,  is  mine. 

Be  still,  my  throbbing  heart,  be  still, 

Cast  off  thy  weary  load, 
And  make  His  holy  will  thy  will, 

And  rest  upon  thy  God. 

How  many  a  time  the  night  hath  come  ! 

Yet  still  returned  the  day ; 
How  many  a  time  thy  cross,  thy  gloom, 

Ere  now  hath  passed  awray ! 

And  these  dark  hours  of  anxious  pain 

That  now  oppress  thee  sore, 
I  know  will  vanish  soon  again, 

Then  I  shall  fear  no  more  : 

For  when  the  night  hath  lasted  long, 

We  know  the  morn  is  near ; 
And  when  the  trial's   sharp  and  strong, 

Our  Help  shall  soon  appear. 

Pastor  Josephsen. 


22o  <Sunmm  <£ortr*» 


THOU   WILT    NOT    FORSAKE   ME. 

AND  wilt  Thou  now  forsake  me,  Lord  ? 
I  feel  it  cannot  be  * 
No  earthly  tongue  can  ever  tell 
What  Thou  hast  been  to  me. 

Through  all  the  changing  scenes  of  life 

Thy  love  hath  sheltered  me  \ 
And  wilt  Thou  now  forget  Thy  child  ? 

I  feel  it  cannot  be. 

Thy  love  hath  been  my  heritage 

Through  many  a  weary  year  ; 
I've  trusted  to  Thy  promises, 

And  Thou  hast  dried  each  tear. 

And  now  when  youth  and  health  and  strength 

And  energy  have  fled, 
The  shades  of  evening  peacefully 

Shall  close  around  my  head. 

And  when  in  all  the  helplessness 

Of  death  I  turn  to  Thee, 
Thou  wilt  not  then  forsake  me,  Lord : 

I  feel  it  cannot  be. 

Anonymous. 


Stcftncss*  221 


THE    RESIGNATION. 

LONG  have  I  viewed,  long  have  I  thought, 
And  held  with  trembling  hand  this  bitter  draught  : 
'Twas  just  now  to  my  lips  applied  ; 
Nature  shrank  in,  and  all  my  courage  died,  — 

But  now  resolved  and  firm  I'll  be, 
Since,  Lord,  'tis  mingled  and  reached  out  by  Thee. 

Take  all,  great  God  :  I  will  not  grieve  ; 
But  still  will  wish  that  I  had  still  to  give. 

I  hear  Thy  voice  ;  Thou  biddest  me  quit 
My  paradise,  —  I  bless  and  do  submit. 

I  will  not  murmur  at  Thy  word, 
Nor  beg  Thy  angel  to  sheathe  up  his  sword. 

John  Norris.     1657-1711. 

"BE    NOT    THOU    FAR    FROM    ME,    O    LORD;     O 

MY  STRENGTH,  HASTE  THEE  TO  HELP  ME." 

Psalm  xxii.   19. 

FORSAKE  me  not,  my  God  :  my  heart  is  sinking, 
Bowed  down  with  faithless  fears,  and  bodings  vain  ; 
Busied  with  dark  imaginings,  and  drinking 

Th'  anticipated  cup  of  grief  and  pain  ; 
But,  Lord,  I  lean  on  Thee,  Thy  staff  and  rod 

Shall  guide  my  lot ; 
I  will  not  fear,  if  Thou,  my  God,  my  God, 

Forsake  me  not  !  Charlotte  Elliott. 


222  cSursum  ©ortra* 


I    HOLD    STILL. 


PAIN'S  furnace-heat  within  me  quivers, 
God's  breath  upon  the  flame  doth  blow, 
And  all  my  heart  in  anguish  shivers 

And  trembles  at  the  fiery  glow ; 
And  yet  I  whisper,  —  As  God  will  ! 
And,  in  His  hottest  fire,  hold  still. 

He  comes  and  lays  my  heart,  all  heated, 

On  the  hard  anvil,  minded  so 
Into  His  own  fair  shape  to  beat  it, 

With  His  great  hammer,  blow  on  blow  ; 
And  yet  I  whisper,  —  As  God  will  ! 

And,  at  His  heaviest  blows,  hold  still. 

He  takes  my  softened  heart,  and  beats  it. 

The  sparks  fly  off  at  every  blow ; 
He  turns  it  o'er  and  o'er,  and  heats  it, 

And  lets  it  cool,  and  makes  it  glow  ; 
And  yet  I  whisper,  —  As  God  will ! 

And,  in  His  mighty  hand,  hold  still. 

Why  should  I  murmur  ?  for  the  sorrow 
Thus  only  longer-lived  would  be  ; 

Its  end  may  come,  and  will  to-morrow, 
When  God  has  done  His  work  in  me ; 

So  I  say  trusting,  —  As  God  will  ! 
And,  trusting  to  the  end,  hold  still. 


Striates-  223 

He  kindles  for  my  profit,  purely, 

Affliction's  glowing,  fiery  brand  ; 
And  all  His  heaviest  blows  are,  surely, 

Inflicted  by  a  Master-hand  ; 
So  I  say,  praying,  —  As  God  will  ! 

And  hope  in  Him,  and  suffer  still. 

Julius  Sturm. 
Tr.  by  Charles  T.  Brooks. 


HERE   AM    I. 

MY  will  would  like  a  life  of  ease,  — 
And  power  to  do,  and  time  to  rest,  — 
And  health  and  strength  my  will  would  please, 
But,  Lord,  I  know  Thy  will  is  best. 

If  I  have  strength  to  do  Thy  will, 

That  should  be  power  enough  for  me  ; 

Whether  to  work  or  to  sit  still 

The  appointment  of  the  day  may  be. 

And  if  by  sickness  I  may  grow 

More  patient,  holy,  and  resigned  ; 
Strong  health  I  need  not  wish  to  know, 

And  greater  ease  I  cannot  find. 

Lord,  I  have  given  my  life  to  Thee, 
And  every  day  and  hour  is  Thine,  — 

What  Thou  appointest  let  them  be  : 
Thy  will  is  better,  Lord,  than  mine. 

Anna  Warner. 


224  Suramin  <£or*au 


FEEBLE,    HELPLESS. 

FEEBLE,  helpless,  how  shall  I 
Learn  to  live  and  learn  to  die  ( 
Who,  O  God,  my  guide  shall  be  ? 
Who  shall  lead  Thy  child  to  Thee  ? 

Blessed  Father,  gracious  One, 
Thou  hast  sent  Thy  holy  Son ; 
He  will  give  the  light  I  need, 
He  my  trembling  steps  will  lead. 

Through  this  world,  uncertain,  dim, 
Let  me  ever  learn  of  him  ; 
From  his  precepts  wisdom  draw, 
Make  his  life  my  solemn  law. 

Thus  in  deed,  and  thought,  and  word, 
Led  by  Jesus  Christ  the  Lord, 
In  my  weakness  thus  shall  I 
Learn  to  live  and  learn  to  die ;  — 

Learn  to  live  in  peace  and  love, 
Like  the  perfect  ones  above  ;  — 
Learn  to  die  without  a  fear, 
Feeling  Thee,  my  Father,  near. 


William  H.  Furness. 


Stdmess*  225 


"IT    IS  THE    LORD:    LET    HIM    DO    WHAT 
SEEMETH    HIM    GOOD." 

1  Samuel  hi.  i8. 

THUS  saith  the  Lord  :  "  Thy  days  of  health  are  over  t  " 
And,  like  the  mist,  my  vigor  fled  away; 
Till  but  a  feeble  shadow  was  remaining, 
A  fragile  form  fast  hasting  to  decay. 
The  May  of  life,  with  all  its  blooming  flowers,  — 
The  joys  of  life,  in  colors  bright  arrayed,  — 
The  hopes  of  life,  in  all  their  airy  promise,  — 
I  saw  them  in  the  distance  slowly  fade  : 

Then  sighs  of  sorrow  in  my  soul  would  rise, 
Then  silent  tears  would  overflow  my  eyes  ! 
But  a  warm  sunbeam  from  a  higher  sphere 
Stole  through  the  gloom,  and  dried  up  every  tear. 
Is  this  Thy  will,  good  Lord  ?  —  the  strife  is  o'er, 
Thy  servant  weeps  no  more. 

"  From  the  calm  port  of  safety  rudely  severed, 
Through  stormy  waves  thy  shattered  bark  must  go, 
And  dimly  see,  amid  the  darkness  sinking, 
Nothing  but  heaven  above  and  depths  below  !  "  — 
Thus  said  the  Lord  \  and,  through  a  raging  ocean 
Of  doubts  and  fears,  my  spirit  toiled  in  vain  : 


226  Sursum  ©ortta* 

Ah  !  many  a  dove  went  forth,  of  hope  inquiring, 
But  none*  with  olive  leaf  returned  again  ! 

Then  groans  of  anguish  in  my  soul  would  rise, 
Then  tears  of  bitterness  o'erflowed  my  eyes  ! 
But  through  the  gloom  the  promised  light  was  given, 
From  the  dark  waves  I  could  look  up  to  heaven  : 
Is  this  Thy  will,  good  Lord  ?  —  the  strife  is  o'er, 
Thy  servant  weeps  no  more. 

Heinrich  Mowes.     1832. 
"  Hyms  from  the  Land  of  Luther." 

ONE   ARMY   OF   THE    LIVING    GOD. 

COME,  let  us  join  our  friends  above 
That  have  obtained  the  prize, 
And  on  the  eagle  wings  of  love 

To  joy  celestial  rise. 
Let  all  the  saints  terrestrial  sing 

With  those  to  glory  gone  ; 
For  all  the  servants  of  our  King, 
In  earth  and  heaven,  are  one. 

One  family,  we  dwell  in  Him, 

One  church,  above,  beneath, 
Though  now  divided  by  the  stream, 

The  narrow  stream  of  death. 
One  army  of  the  living  God, 

To  His  command  we  bow, 
Part  of  His  host  hath  crossed  the  flood, 

And  part  is  crossing  now. 

Charles  Wesley.     1759. 


cStcftttniS-  227 

"LORD,    LIFT    THOU    UP    THE    LIGHT    OF    THY 
COUNTENANCE    UPON    ME." 

Psalm  iv.  6. 

AGAIN  the  orient  light  is  shining; 
Again  on  Thee,  my  God,  reclining, 
Would  I  pursue  my  way  : 
Would  follow  where  Thy  voice  shall  call  me ; 
Would  cling  to  Thee  whate'er  befall  me, 
And,  oh  !  let  Thy  mild  look  recall  me, 
When  I  would  go  astray. 

And  if,  dejected,  faint,  and  weary, 

My  path  to-day  seem  rough  and  dreary, 

Oh  !  let  Thy  pitying  love  — 
That  source  of  sweetest  comfort  —  cheer  me  ; 
And  tell  me  Thou  art  ever  near  me, 
To  strengthen,  guide,  defend,  and  hear  me, 

My  all  in  all  to  prove. 

Should  any  earthly  thing  distress  me, 
Should  suffering,  cares,  or  fears  depress  me, 

When  Thou  Thy  love  hast  given  ? 
When  Thou  wilt  leave  not  nor  forsake  me, 
But  meet  for  Thine  own  presence  make  me, 
And  soon  wilt  come  Thyself  to  take  me 

To  dwell  with  Thee  in  heaven  ? 

Charlotte  Elliott. 


228  Sunmm  <£ortra- 


IN   THE    HOSPITAL. 

"  S.  S.,  a  Massachusetts  sergeant,  worn  out  with  heavy  marches, 

wounds,  and   camp    disease,   died   in  General   Hospital,  in 

November,  1863,  in  'perfect  peace/  Some  who  witnessed  daily 
his  wonderful  sweet  patience  and  content,  through  great  languor 
and  weariness,  fancied  sometimes  they  '  could  already  see  the 
brilliant  particles  of  a  halo  in  the  air  about  his  head/  " 

I  LAY  me  down  to  sleep, 
With  little  thought  or  care 
Whether  my  waking  find 
Me  here,  —  or  there  ! 

A  bowing,  burdened  head, 

That  only  asks  to  rest, 
Unquestioning,  upon 

A  loving  Breast. 

My  good  right  hand  forgets 

Its  cunning  now  ; 
To  march  the  weary  march 

I  know  not  how. 

I  am  not  eager,  bold, 

Nor  strong,  —  all  that  is  past ; 
I  am  ready  not  to  do 

At  last,  —  at  last ! 


cStcttnesau  229 

My  half-day's  work  is  done. 

And  this  is  all  my  part,  — 
I  give  a  patient  God 

My  patient  heart ; 

And  grasp  His  banner  still, 

Though  all  its  blue  be  dim  : 
These  stripes,  no  less  than  stars, 

Lead  after  Him.  Anonymous. 

STRENGTH. 

TO    A    FRIEND    NEAR    DEATH. 

"  "II7HEN  I  am  weak,  I'm  strong," 

▼  ▼       The  great  Apostle  cried. 
The  strength  that  did  not  to  the  earth  belong, 
The  might  of  Heaven  supplied. 

"  When  I  am  weak,  I'm  strong," 

Blind  Milton  caught  that  strain, 
And  flung  its  victory  o'er  the  ills  that  throng 

Round  Age  and  Want  and  Pain. 

"When  I  am  weak,  I'm  strong," 

Each  Christian  heart  repeats  ; 
These  words  will  tune  its  feeblest  breath  to  song, 

And  fire  its  languid  beats. 

O  Holy  Strength  !  whose  ground 

Is  in  the  heavenly  land ; 
And  whose  supporting  help  alone  is  found 

In  God's  immortal  hand. 


230  <£ur*um  ©ortra. 

O  Blessed  !  that  appears 

When  fleshly  aids  are  spent  \ 
And  girds  the  mind,  when  most  it  faints  and  fears, 

With  trust  and  sweet  content. 

It  bids  us  cast  aside 

All  thoughts  of  lesser  powers  ; 
Give  up  all  hope  from  changing  time  and  tide, 

And  all  vain  will  of  ours. 

We  have  but  to  confess 

That  there's  but  one  retreat ; 
And  meekly  lay  each  need  and  each  distress 

Down  at  the  sovereign  Feet : 

Then,  then  it  fills  the  place 

Of  all  we  hoped  to  do  ; 
And  sunken  nature  triumphs  in  the  grace 

That  bears  us  up  and  through. 

A  better  glow  than  health 

Flushes  the  cheek  and  brow  ; 
The  heart  is  stout  with  store  of  nameless  wealth  : 

We  can  do  all  things  now. 

No  less  sufficience  seek  ; 

All  counsel  less  is  wrong ; 
The  whole  world's  force  is  poor  and  mean  and  weak  : 

"  When  I  am  weak,  I'm  strong." 

N.  L.  Frothingham. 


cStttUUSiS-  231 


O    THOU,    WHOSE   ALL-ENLIVENING   RAY. 

OTHOU,  whose  all-enlivening  ray 
Can  turn  my  darkness  into  day, 
Disperse,  great  God,  my  mental  gloom, 
And  with  Thyself  my  soul  illume. 
Though  gathering  sorrows  swell  my  breast, 
Speak  but  the  word,  and  peace  and  rest 
Shall  set  my  troubled  spirit  free, 
In  sweet  communion,  Lord,  with  Thee. 

What  though,  in  this  heart-searching  hour, 

Thou  dim'st  my  intellectual  power ; 

The  gracious  discipline  I  own. 

And  wisdom  seek  at  Thy  blest  throne. 

Let  love  divine  my  bosom  sway, 

And  then  my  darkness  will  be  day ; 

No  doubts,  no  fears,  shall  heave  my  breast, 

For  God  Himself  will  be  my  rest. 

Bishop  Jebb. 


THE    BORDER-LANDS. 

FATHER,  into  Thy  loving  hands 
My  feeble  spirit  I  commit, 
While  wandering  in  these  Border-Lands 
Lentil  Thy  voice  shall  summon  it. 


232  &uvmm  ©ortrau 

Father,  I  would  not  dare  to  choose 

A  longer  life,  an  earlier  death  ; 
I  know  not  what  my  soul  might  lose 

By  shortened  or  protracted  breath. 

These  Border-Lands  are  calm  and  still, 
And  solemn  are  their  silent  shades ; 

And  my  heart  welcomes  them,  until 
The  light  of  life's  long  evening  fades. 

I  hear  them  spoken  of  with  dread, 

As  fearful  and  unquiet  places  ; 
Shades,  where  the  living  and  the  dead 

Look  sadly  in  each  others'  faces. 

But  since  Thy  hand  hath  led  me  here, 
And  I  have  seen  the  Border-Land  ; 

Seen  the  dark  river  flowing  near, 
Stood  on  its  brink,  as  now  I  stand ; 

There  has  been  nothing  to  alarm 

My  trembling  soul :  how  could  I  fear 

While  thus  encircled  with  Thine  arm? 
I  never  felt  Thee  half  so  near. 

What  should  appall  me  in  a  place 
That  brings  me  hourly  nearer  Thee  ? 

When  I  may  almost  see  Thy  face,  — 
Surely  'tis  here  my  soul  would  be. 

EUPHEMIA    SAXBY. 


cSfcftuessu  233 


TRUST    IN    THE    LORD    AT   ALL   TIMES. 

u  Deep  calleth  unto  deep  at  the  noise  of  Thy  water-spouts :  all  Thy 
waves  and  Thy  billows  are  gone  over  ?ne.  Yet  the  Lord  will  com- 
mand His  loving- kindness  in  the  day-time,  and  in  the  night  His  song 
shall  be  with  me,  a?id my  prayer  unto  the  God  of  my  life.''''  —  Ps.  xlii. 

GO  not  far  from  me,  O  my  Strength, 
Whom  all  my  times  obey  ; 
Take  from  me  any  thing  Thou  wilt, 

But  go  not  Thou  away,  — 
And  let  the  storm  that  does  Thy  work 
Deal  with  me  as  it  may. 

On  Thy  compassion  I  repose, 

In  weakness  and  distress  : 
I  will  not  ask  for  greater  ease, 

Lest  I  should  love  Thee  less  : 
Oh,  'tis  a  blessed  thing  for  me 

To  need  Thy  tenderness  ! 

Thy  love  has  many  a  lighted  path 

No  outward  eye  can  trace  ; 
And  my  heart  sees  Thee  in  the  deep, 

With  darkness  on  its  face, 
And  communes  with  Thee  'mid  the  storm 

As  in  a  secret  place. 


234  Sttrsum  <£ortra* 

When  I  am  feeble  as  a  child, 

And  flesh  and  heart  give  way, 

Then  on  Thy  everlasting  strength 
With  passive  trust  I  stay, 

And  the  rough  wind  becomes  a  song, 
The  darkness  shines  like  day. 

No  suffering  while  it  lasts  is  joy, 

How  blest  soe'er  it  be, — 
Yet  may  the  chastened  child  be  glad 

His  Father's  face  to  see ; 
And,  oh  !   it  is  not  hard  to  bear, 

What  must  be  borne  in  Thee. 

Safe  in  Thy  sanctifying  grace, 

Almighty  to  restore  ; 
Borne  onward  —  sin  and  death  behind, 

And  love  and  life  before,  — 
Oh,  let  my  soul  abound  in  hope, 

And  praise  Thee  more  and  more  ! 

Deep  unto  deep  may  call ;  but  I 

With  peaceful  heart  will  say,  — 

Thy  loving-kindness  hath  a  charge 
No  waves  can  take  away ; 

And  let  the  storm  that  speeds  me  home 
Deal  with  me  as  it  may. 

Anna  L.  Waring. 


<StCftlU8S-  235 


SWEET    PATIENCE,    COME. 

SWEET  Patience,  come  ! 
With  long  distress  my  spirit  faints, 
And  my  heart  breaks  with  its  complaints  ; 
And  eager  pain,  to  find  relief, 
Solicits  even  change  of  grief,  — 
And  unbelief  disturbs  my  trust, 
And  shakes  my  hopes  —  as  with  a  gust 
Spring  blossoms  flutter  from  the  stalk, 
And  withering  lie  upon  the  walk  :  — 
Sweet  Patience,  come  ! 

Sweet  Patience,  come  ! 
Not  from  a  low  and  earthly  source,  — 
Waiting,  till  things  shall  have  their  course,  — 
Not  as  accepting  present  pain 
In  hope  of  some  hereafter  gain,  — 
Not  in  a  dull  and  sullen  calm, — 
But  as  a  breath  of  heavenly  balm. 
Bidding  my  weary  heart  submit 
To  bear  whatever  God  sees  fit : 

Sweet  Patience,  come ! 

Sweet  Patience,  come  ! 
Tell  me  my  Father  hath  not  shed 
One  grief  too  many  on  my  head  ; 
Tell  me  His  love  remembers  still 
His  children,  suffering:  at  His  will. 


236  Sutsum  (KorSa* 

How  excellent  a  thought  to  me 
His  loving-kindness  then  shall  be  ! 
Then  in  the  shadow  of  His  wings 
I'll  hide  me  from  all  troublous  things  : 
Sweet  Patience,  come ! 

Hymns  of  the  Church  Militant. 

THY   HAND    SHALL   LEAD    ME. 

OLORD,  I  grasp  Thy  hand, 
As  onward  through  the  night 
I  journey  to  the  land 

Of  everlasting  light. 
How  safe  that  hand  has  led 

Through  years  of  mortal  ill ! 
Sorrow  and  joy  alike  have  fled  ; 
But  Thou  art  with  me  still. 

Oh  wondrous,  wondrous  were 

The  paths  where  Thou  didst  guide  ! 
Rainbows  and  storms  commingled  there, 

But  Thou  wert  by  my  side. 
It  was  the  Lord's  highway, 

The  way  of  holiness  ; 
And,  whether  bright  or  dark  the  day, 

It  only  rose  to  bless. 

Now  that  the  midnight's  gloom 

Stealthily  creepeth  near  ; 
Sepulchral  shadows  from  the  tomb 

With  all  their  solemn  fear,  — 


O  Lord,  my  helper  be, 

Though  hidden  from  my  sight ! 
Thy  hand  upholds  as  steadfastly 

In  darkness  as  in  light. 

Then  nerve  my  sinking  faith  ; 

Oh,  take  my  hand  in  Thine  ! 
Thy  love  is  stronger  far  than  death  ; 

And,  Lord,  that  love  is  mine. 
It  is  but  one  black  wave, 

And  then  a  crystal  sea ; 
One  dream  of  darkness  in  the  grave, 

The  morn,  —  Eternity  ! 

Yes,  though  Love  weep  its  tears, 

And  Hope  may  scarce  endure, 
Steadily  onward  move  the  years,  — 

Our  endless  home  is  sure. 
A  home,  O  Lord,  with  Thee  ! 

A  home  in  Thy  embrace,  — 
Where  Faith  that  followed  trustingly 

Shall  see  Thee,  face  to  face. 

LlEBICH. 


238  <Sun>um  (ftortra* 


"LOVEST   THOU    ME." 

I  DARE  not  say  "  I  love  Thee,  "  Lord, 
Because  I  know  that  every  day 
Some  heedless  act  or  thoughtless  word, 
Would  contradict  the  thing  I  say. 

And  love  that  is  in  words  expressed 
Too  often  proves  less  deep  and  true 

Than  that  which  moves  the  loving  breast 
To  do  what  Thou  wouldst  have  it  do. 

Ah  !  I  would  gladly  be  like  those 
Who  dedicate  their  lives  to  Thee ; 

Whose  love  no  dubious  token  shows 
Of  its  heartfelt  sincerity. 

Sweet  peace-makers,  whose  gentle  hands 
Can  disentangle  household  love 

From  envy's  irritating  bands, 

That  gall  it  like  a  trammelled  dove. 

Kind  friends  who  glide  about  and  bear 
Their  little  flasks  of  oil  and  wine, 

To  solace  every  cross  and  care 
With  love  less  human  than  divine. 

Such  works,  O  Lord,  Thou  dost  allow 
As  proofs  of  love  within  the  heart ; 

But  I,  a  worn-out  vessel  now, 
Am  laid  aside,  alone,  apart. 


Stcftnesau  239 

And  yet  I  dare  not  say,  "  I  love," 
Oh,  show  me  then  some  other  way 

By  which  Thy  lonely  child  may  prove 
More  than  her  lips  would  dare  to  say  ! 

If  calm  submission,  chastened  will, 
And  cheerfulness  the  proofs  would  be 

Of  love  to  Him  who  loves  me  still, 
O  Father,  grant  them  all  to  me. 

EUPHEMIA    SAXBY. 

RESIGNATION. 

WHY  should  I  not  meet  gladly  all  my  pain,  — 
That  holy  angel  sent  to  me  from  God ! 
Why  to  that  God  compassionate  complain, 
And  ask  why  I  the  thorny  path  have  trod  ? 

Like  birds  that  sleep  beneath  the  mother's  wing, 
I  cling  for  rest  to  the  Great  Father's  heart ; 

Though  sorrow,  death,  a  thousand  arrows  fling, 
I  vanquish,  —  thou,  my  faith,  unvanquished  art. 

Soft  as  a  dove,  my  prayer  soars  to  Thee, 
Soars  to  my  Father's  firmament  of  blue  ; 

Keen,  the  abyss  of  boundless  light  to  see, 
It  murmurs  in  His  ear  these  accents  true  : 

Accept  the  incense  of  a  soul  resigned, 

Thou  Soul  of  souls,  to  whom  its  pangs  are  known ; 
To  all  but  love  may  I  in  grief  be  blind, 

As  Thou  in  giving  grief  Thy  love  hast  shown. 

From  the  Swedish  of  Vita  lis. 


240  cSunmm  ©orira* 


GRAND   DIEU,    POUR   TON    PLAISIR. 

GRAND  Dieu,  pour  ton  plaisir 
Je  suis  dans  une  cage  ; 
Ecoute  mon  ramage  ; 
C'est-la  mon  seul  desir  : 
J'aime  mon  esclavage, 
Grand  Dieu,  pour  ton  plaisir. 

Je  chante  tout  le  jour, 
Seigneur,  c'est  pour  te  plaire  ; 
Mon  extreme  misere 
Augmente  mon  amour  : 
N'ayant  point  d'autre  affaire, 
Je  chante  tout  le  jour. 

Tu  l'entends,  mon  Seigneur, 
Cet  amoureux  langage, 
Ignore  du  faux  sage, 
Goute  du  chaste  coeur, 
L'amour  a  son  ramage  : 
Tu  l'entends,  mon  Seigneur. 

Je  vis  en  liberte, 
Quoique  dans  l'esclavage  : 
L' Amour  Pur  met  au  large 
Le  coeur,  la  volonte  : 
Dans  ma  petite  cage 
Je  vis  en  liberte'. 


cStCttUCSSL  241 

Divine  volonte, 

Que  j'adore  et  que  j'aime ! 

Plus  ma  peine  est  extreme, 

Plus  j'ai  de  liberte. 

Tous  biens  sont  en  toi-meme, 

Divine  volonte. 

De  ton  petit  oiseau 
Recois,  je  te  conjure, 
Le  gazouillant  murmure, 
Plus  tendre  qu'il  n'est  beau  ; 
Et  sois  la  nourriture 
De  ton  petit  oiseau. 

Madame  Guyon. 

A    LITTLE    BIRD    I    AM.* 
Written  during  her  ten  years'  imprisonment  in  the  Bastile. 

LITTLE  bird  I  am, 
Shut  from  the  fields  of  air, 
And  in  my  cage  I  sit  and  sing 

To  Him  who  placed  me  there  ; 
Well  pleased  a  prisoner  to  be, 

Because,  my  God,  it  pleases  Thee  ! 

Naught  have  I  else  to  do, 

I  sing  the  whole  day  long  ; 
And  He  whom  most  I  love  to  please 

Doth  listen  to  my  song  ; 

*  A  free  translation  of  the  preceding  poem. 
16 


A 


242  cSursum  ©ortra* 

He  caught  and  bound  my  wandering  wing, 
But  still  He  bends  to  hear  me  sing. 

Thou  hast  an  ear  to  hear, 

A  heart  to  love  and  bless  ; 
And,  though  my  notes  were  e'er  so  rude, 

Thou  wouldst  not  hear  the  less  ; 
Because  Thou  knowest,  as  they  fall, 
That  love,  sweet  love,  inspires  them  all. 

My  cage  confines  me  round  : 

Abroad  I  cannot  fly  ; 
But,  though  my  wing  is  closely  bound, 

My  heart's  at  liberty  ; 
My  prison  walls  cannot  control 
The  flight,  the  freedom  of  the  soul. 

Oh,  it  is  good  to  soar 

These  bolts  and  bars  above, 
To  Him  whose  purpose  I  adore, 

Whose  providence  I  love  ; 
And  in  Thy  mighty  will  to  find 
The  joy,  the  freedom,  of  the  mind  ! 

Madame  Guyon. 
Tr.  by  Prof.  T.  C.  Upham. 


cStcfctuss-  243 


THE    WANDERER'S    HYMN. 

OTHOU,  by  long  experience  tried, 
Near  whom  no  grief  can  long  abide  ; 
My  Lord !     How  full  of  sweet  content, 
I  pass  my  years  of  banishment. 

All  scenes  alike  engaging  prove 
To  souls  impressed  with  sacred  love  ; 
Where'er  they  dwell,  they  dwell  in  Thee, 
In  heaven,  on  earth,  or  on  the  sea. 

To  me  remains  nor  place  nor  time  : 
My  country  is  in  every  clime  ; 
I  can  be  calm  and  free  from  care 
On  any  shore,  since  God  is  there. 

While  place  we  seek,  or  place  we  shun, 
The  soul  finds  happiness  in  none  ; 
But,  with  a  God  to  guide  our  way, 
'Tis  equal  joy  to  go  or  stay. 

Could  I  be  cast  where  Thou  art  not, 
That  were  indeed  a  dreadful  lot ; 
But  regions  none  remote  I  call, 
Secure  of  finding  God  in  all. 

Madame  Guyon.     1689. 


244  cSursum  ©ortrau 


"I,    PAUL,  A   PRISONER   OF   THE    LORD." 

O  COMRADE  bold  of  toil  and  pain  ! 
Thy  trial  how  severe, 
When  severed  first  by  prisoner's  chain 
From  thy  loved  labor-sphere  ! 

Say,  did  impatience  first  impel 

The  heaven-sent  bond  to  break  ? 
Or  couldst  thou  bear  its  hindrance  well, 

Loitering  for  Jesu's  sake  ? 

Oh  might  we  know !  for  sore  we  feel 

The  languor  of  delay, 
When  sickness  lets  our  fainter  zeal, 

Or  foes  block  up  our  way. 

Lord !  who  Thy  thousand  years  dost  wait 

To  work  the  thousandth  part 
Of  Thy  vast  plan,  for  us  create 

With  zeal  a  patient  heart. 

John  Henry  Newman.     1833. 


StCtWCSS-  245 


ON   LEAVING   HOME  FOR  A  MILDER  CLIMATE. 

"  My  presence  shall  go  with  thee,  and  I  will  give  thee  rest"  —  Ex. 
xxxiii.  14. 

THIS  gracious  promise,  Lord,  fulfil, 
Now  that  I  leave  a  home  so  dear  ; 
My  soul's  sweet  home  is  present  still, 
If  Thou  art  near. 

Beneath  Thy  wings  if  I  remain, 

My  home  !  my  hiding-place  !  my  rest ! 
Sheltered  and  safe,  and  free  from  pain, 
My  soul  is  blest. 

Thy  presence  fills  my  mind  with  peace, 

Brightens  the  thoughts  so  dark  erewhile, 
Bids  cares  and  sad  forebodings  cease, 
Makes  all  things  smile. 

This  striking  of  my  pilgrim  tent 

No  longer  mournful  will  appear, 
If  Thy  reviving  presence  lent, 
The  traveller  cheer. 

The  spacious  earth  is  all  Thine  own  ; 

What  land  soe'er  my  steps  invite, 
That  land  Thine  eye  will  rest  upon 
By  day,  by  night. 


246  cSursttm  ©ortra* 

I  ask  not  health,  I  ask  not  ease  ; 
I  ask  in  Thee  my  rest  to  find  ; 
To  all  Thy  sovereign  will  decrees, 
Be  mine  resigned"! 

Whether  again  my  home  I  see, 

Or  yield  on  foreign  shores  my  breath, 
Take  not  Thy  presence,  Lord,  from  me, 
In  life  or  death  ! 

In  Thee,  my  hiding-place  divine, 

Be  rest  throughout  life's  journeyings  given: 
Then  sweeter,  holier  rest  be  mine, 
With  Thee  in  heaven  ! 

Charlotte  Elliott. 


BEHOLD,  O  LORD,   FOR  I  AM  IN  DISTRESS. " 
Lamentations  i.  20. 

LORD,  I  am  very  weak,  distrest ! 
I  languish  and  can  take  no  rest ; 
The  remedies  uncertain  prove, 
And  heavily  the  moments  move  ; 
I  cannot  now  look  up  to  Thee, 
But,  oh,  look  down,  look  down  on  me  ! 

Charlotte  Elliott. 


Stdttuss-  247 

AT   ANCHOR. 

/^\H  !  strange  it  seems  to  lie  at  anchor  here, 

^-^     With  the  broad  mainland  whence  I  sailed  so  nigh. 

Ah,  me  !  I  cannot  check  the  blinding  tear 

When  out-bound  breezes  greet  my  listening  ear, 

And  wail  about  my  bark  with  long-drawn  sigh. 
For  well  do  I  remember  that  glad  day 

When  from  the  shore  I  launched  with  merry  song, 
When  bird  and  breeze  and  billow  seemed  to  say, 
In  one  glad  chorus,  "  Speed  thee  !  speed  away  ! 

And  thou  the  Golden  Shore  shalt  reach  ere  lone." 

o 

Yet  patience,  heart  of  mine  !  A  loving  Hand 

In  haven  sure  thy  poor  frail  craft  has  moored. 
Doubt  not  His  watchful  care,  nor  once  demand 
A  speedier  journey  to  the  longed-for  strand, 

Whilst  thou  the  One  Great  Master  hast  on  board. 
Dost  thou  not  know  'tis  better  thus  to  be 

At  anchor  on  a  fog-enveloped  isle 
Than  tossed  about  with  white  sail  full  and  free 
On  the  wild  billows  of  an  angry  sea, 

Thy  rudder  and  thy  reckoning  lost  the  while  ? 
These  quiet  days  of  waiting  rich  may  be 

With  untold  blessings,  if  thou  use  them  well. 
Grave  was  the  Master  when  thy  bark  was  free, 
And  now  He  often  speaks  fond  words  to  thee, — 

Ay !  dearer,  sweeter  words  than  thou  canst  tell. 


248  cSttrsum  ©ortra. 

Perchance  the  Land  I  seek  is  not  so  far 

As  youth's  high  spirit  dreamed  in  days  of  yore. 
'Twas  but  a  fancy  that  yon  hazy  bar, 
O'er  which  I  marked  each  eve  the  first  bright  star, 
Formed  any  part  of  my  fair  Golden  Shore. 

It  may  be  close  at  hand,  I  cannot  tell. 

I  only  know  the  Master  guideth  true  ; 
And,  though  at  anchor  long,  I'll  not  rebel, 
But  with  fresh  courage  sing  the  glad  "All's  well  I" 

Till  in  His  own  good  time,  my  Port  I  view  ! 

B.  E.  E. 


THOU    ART    MY    HEALTH. 

ON  Thee,  my  Health  in  sickness, 
My  feeble  soul  is  stayed  ; 
Thy  strength  in  human  weakness 

Is  perfectly  displayed : 
Thou  never  wilt  forsake  me, 

Who  on  Thy  Love  depend  ; 
But  to  Thy  bosom  take  me 
Till  pain  with  life  shall  end. 

Charles  Wesley.     1767. 


Stcfcness*  249 


WAITING. 

"  Ye  have  need  of  patience,  that,  after  ye  have  done  the  will  of  God, 
ye  might  receive  the  promise"  —  Heb.  x.  36. 

AND  is  there  nothing  to  be  done, 
While  here,  on  this  sick-bed,  I  lie? 
Should  I  thus  weary  to  be  gone, 

Thus  think,  'twere  better  far  to  die  ? 

Alas  !  that  very  thought  declares 

How  much  remains  unhallowed  still ; 

The  soul,  which  God  for  heaven  prepares, 
Has  lost  her  own  in  His  blest  will. 

And  if  His  work  of  grace  in  me 
Were  now  well  nigh  consummated, 

Contented,  willing  should  I  be, 
To  lie  for  years  on  this  sick-bed. 

For  then,  my  faith  would  be  so  strong, 
Would  bring  my  blessed  Lord  so  near, 

That  days,  weeks,  months,  would  ne'er  seem  long, 
With  such  a  Friend  my  couch  to  cheer. 

Full  many  a  sufferer  there  has  seen 

Such  proofs  of  His  transcendent  worth, 

That  e'en  their  bed  of  pain  has  been 
To  them  a  little  heaven  on  earth. 


2So  Surmtm  <£orfca- 

Oh  !  grant  me  now  that  will  resigned, 

That  patient,  weaned,  obedient  heart ; 
That  loving,  peaceful,  heavenly  mind, 

Thy  Spirit  can  alone  impart. 
Let  me  not  languish  e'en  for  home, 

One  wish,  one  only  wish,  be  mine  : 
Each  hour  more  holy  to  become, 

More  fully  and  entirely  Thine  ! 

Charlotte  Elliott. 

"LORD,    BE    THOU    MY    HELPER!" 
Psalm  xxx.  io. 

WHEN  all  outward  comfort  flies, 
And  my  heart  within  me  dies, 
Hear,  oh  hear,  my  trembling  sighs  ! 

Help  me,  O  my  Father  ! 
When  the  day  brings  pain  and  grief, 
Night,  nor  respite,  nor  relief, 
Whisper  —  "  These  dark  hours  are  brief  :  " 

Help  me,  O  my  Father ! 
When  all  human  help  proves  vain, 
And  my  agonizing  pain 
More  than  nature  can  sustain, 

Help  me,  O  my  Father ! 
Thou,  Thou  only  canst  relieve  me  ! 
Till  Thine  arms  of  love  receive  me, 
Whisper  —  "  I  will  never  leave  Thee  !  " 

Help  me,  O  my  Father  ! 

Charlotte  Elliott. 


<£icttnisg»  251 


THE    THOUGHT    OF   GOD. 

TO  think  of  Thee  is  almost  prayer, 
And  is  outspoken  praise  ; 
And  pain  can  even  passive  thoughts 
To  actual  worship  raise. 

O  Lord  !  I  live  always  in  pain, 

My  life  's  sad  under-song,  — 
Pain  in  itself  not  hard  to  bear, 

But  hard  to  bear  so  long. 

Little  sometimes  weighs  more  than  much, 

When  it  has  no  relief  ; 
A  joyless  life  is  worse  to  bear 

Than  one  of  active  grief. 

And  yet,  O  Lord  !  a  suffering  life 
One  grand  ascent  may  dare  ; 

Penance,  not  self-imposed,  can  make 
The  whole  of  life  a  prayer. 

All  murmurs  lie  inside  Thy  Will 
Which  are  to  Thee  addressed  : 

To  suffer  for  Thee  is  our  work ; 
To  think  of  Thee,  our  rest. 


F.  W.  Faber. 


252  cSursum  (ftorfca* 


WITH    GOD. 

GOOD  Lord,  no  strength  I  have,  nor  need  : 
Within  Thy  light  I  lie, 
And  grow  like  herb  in  sunny  place, 
While  outer  storms  go  by. 

Thy  pleasant  rain  my  soul  doth  feed,  — 

Thy  love  like  summer  rain  ; 
I  faint,  but,  lo  !  thy  winds  of  grace 

Revive  my  soul  again. 

I  fain  would  give  some  perfume  out, 

Some  bruised  scent  of  myrrh  ; 
But  Thou  art  close  at  hand,  my  Lord,  — 

I  need  not  strive  nor  stir. 

I  cannot  fear,  and  need  not  doubt, 

Though  I  be  weak  and  low  : 
If  Thou  didst  will,  a  mighty  sword 

From  out  my  stem  should  grow. 

Thou  hast  Thy  glorious  forest-trees, 

Thy  things  of  worth  and  power ; 
But  it  may  be  Thy  plan  were  marred 

Had  I  ne'er  lived  a  flower. 

Thy  promise,  like  an  evening  breeze, 

Doth  fold  my  leaves  in  sleep  : 
Who  trusts,  the  Lord  will  surely  guard  ; 

Who  loves,  the  Lord  will  keep.  Sarah  Williams. 


Sbitkutun.  253 


NOW  IT  BELONGS  NOT  TO  MY  CARE. 

NOW  it  belongs  not  to  my  care 
Whether  I  die  or  live  : 
To  love  and  serve  Thee  is  my  share, 
And  this  Thy  grace  must  give. 

If  death  shall  bruise  this  springing  seed 

Before  it  come  to  fruit, 
The  will  with  Thee  goes  for  the  deed, 

Thy  life  was  in  the  root. 

If  life  be  long,  I  will  be  glad 

That  I  may  long  obey  ; 
If  short,  yet  why  should  I  be  sad 

To  soar  to  endless  day  ? 

Christ  leads  me  through  no  darker  rooms 

Than  he  went  through  before  ; 
He  that  unto  God's  kingdom  comes 

Must  enter  by  this  door. 

Come,  Lord,  when  grace  hath  made  me  meet 

Thy  blessed  face  to  see ; 
For,  if  Thy  work  on  earth  be  sweet, 

What  will  Thy  glory  be  ? 

My  knowledge  of  that  life  is  small : 

The  eye  of  faith  is  dim  ; 
But  it's  enough  that  Christ  knows  all, 

And  I  Shall  be  with  him.  Rickard  Baxter.     1681. 


254  cSursttm  <£ortta* 


AN    ACT  OF   FAITH    IN    SICKNESS. 

r^O  I  not  trust  in  Thee,  O  Lord  ? 
-*-^     Do  I  not  rest  on  Thee  alone  ? 
Is  not  the  comfort  of  Thy  word 
The  sweetest  cordial  I  have  known  ? 

When  vexed  with  care,  bowed  down  with  grief, 

Where  else  could  I  obtain  relief  ? 

And  now  that  weakness  and  decay 
Forewarn  me  that  my  change  draws  nigh, 
Do  I  not  feel,  from  day  to  day, 
Thou  lookest  down  with  pitying  eye  ? 

Do  I  not  hear  a  still,  small  voice, 

Bidding  me  still  in  hope  rejoice  ? 

To  Thee  my  inmost  spirit  clings  : 
Like  the  poor  dove  that  left  the  ark, 
When  I  forsake  Thy  sheltering  wings, 
I  meet  a  waste  of  waters  dark  : 

Then  back  I  fly,  and  grace  implore 

Never  to  wander  from  Thee  more. 

And  now  on  Thee  I  cast  my  soul : 

Come  life  or  death,  come  ease  or  pain, 

Thy  presence  can  each  fear  control, 

Thy  grace  can  to  the  end  sustain : 
Those  whom  Thou  lovest,  heavenly  Friend, 
Thou  lovest  even  to  the  end. 

Charlotte  Elliott. 


T 


Sfdmeaa,  255 

HYMN    FOR   THE    SICK. 
"  I  will  shcnv  Jiim  how  great  things  he  must  suffer  for  my  name''  s  sake" 

*HY  servants  militant  below 

Have  each,  O  Lord,  their  post : 
As  Thou  appoint'st,  who  best  dost  know 

The  soldiers  of  Thine  host : 
Some  in  the  van  Thou  call'st  to  do, 

And  the  day's  heat  to  share ; 
And  in  the  rearward  not  a  few 
Thou  only  bidd'st  to  bear. 

A  brighter  crown,  perchance,  is  theirs, 

To  the  mid  battle  sent: 
But  he  Thy  glory  also  shares, 

Who  waits  beside*  the  tent. 
More  bravely  done,  in  human  eyes, 

The  foremost  post  to  take  ; 
My  Saviour  will  not  those  despise 

That  suffer  for  His  sake. 

More  honored  others,  Lord,  may  be, 

But  keep  me  near  Thy  throne  ; 
Light  in  Thy  Light  content  to  see, 

And  never  in  mine  own  ; 
To  keep  their  goal  and  mine  in  view, 

Delighted  to  sit  still, 
And  evermore,  if  not  to  do, 

At  least  tO  bear,   Thy  Will.  John  Mason  Neale. 

*  I  Sam.  xxx.  24,  25. 


256  Sursum  ©orfca- 


SABBATH    SONNET. 

HOW  many  blessed  groups  this  hour  are  bending, 
Through     England's    primrose    meadow   paths, 
their  way, 
Towards  spire  and  tower,  'midst  shadowy  elms  ascending, 
Whence  the  sweet  chimes  proclaim  the  hallowed  day ! 
The  halls,  from  old  heroic  ages  gray, 
Pour  their  fair  children  forth ;  and  hamlets  low, 
With  whose  thick  orchard-blooms  the  soft  winds  play, 
Send  out  their  inmates  in  a  happy  flow, 
Like  a  freed  vernal  stream.     I  may  not  tread 
With  them  those  pathways,  —  to  the  feverish  bed 
Of  sickness  bound  ;  yet,  O  my  God  !  I  bless 
Thy  mercy,  that  with  Sabbath  peace  hath  filled 
My  chastened  heart,  and  all  its  throbbings  stilled 
To  one  deep  calm  of  lowliest  thankfulness ! 

Felicia  D.  Hemans. 
Composed  a  few  days  before  her  death. 


MINISTERING   ANGELS. 

BROTHER,  the  angels  say, 
Peace  to  thy  heart ! 
We  too,  O  brother,  have 

Been  as  thou  art,  — 
Hope-lifted,  doubt-depressed, 
Seeing  in  part; 


Stcftncss*  257 

Tried,  troubled,  tempted, 
Sustained,  as  thou  art. 

Brother,  they  softly  say, 

Be  our  thoughts  one  ; 
Bend  thou  with  us  and  pray, 

"  Thy  will  be  done  !  " 
Our  God  is  thy  God ; 

He  willeth  the  best ; 
Trust  Him  as  we  trusted ; 

Rest  as  we  rest ! 

Ye,  too,  they  gently  say, 

Shall  angels  be  ; 
Ye,  too,  O  brothers. 

From  earth  shall  be  free : 
Yet  in  earth's  loved  ones 

Ye  still  shall  have  part, 
Bearing  God's  strength  and  love 

To  the  torn  heart. 

Thus  when  the  spirit,  tried, 

Tempted,  and  worn, 
Finding  no  earthly  aid, 

Heavenward  doth  turn, 
Come  these  sweet  angel-tones, 

Falling  like  balm, 
And  on  the  troubled  heart 

Steals  a  deep  calm. 

Hymns  of  the  Spirit. 


258  Sursum  (ftortrau 


REJOICING    IN    TRIBULATION. 

WHEN  summer  suns  their  radiance  fling 
O'er  every  bright  and  beauteous  thing; 
When,  strong  in  faith,  the  evil  day 
Of  pain  and  grief  seems  far  away  ; 
When  sorrow,  soon  as  felt,  is  gone, 
And  smooth  the  stream  of  life  glides  on  ; 
When  duty,  cheerful,  chosen,  free, 
Brings  her  own  prompt  reward  to  thee ;  — 
'Tis  easy,  the?i,  my  soul,  to  raise 
The  grateful  song  of  heavenly  praise. 

But,  worn  and  languid,  day  and  night 
To  see  the  same  unchanging  sight, 
To  feel  the  rising  morn  can  bring 
Nor  health  nor  ease  upon  its  wing, 
Nor  form  of  beauty  can  create, 
The  languid  sense  to  renovate  ; 
To  look  within,  and  feel  the  mind 
Full  charged  with  blessings  for  mankind  ; 
Then,  gazing  round  this  little  room, 
To  whisper,  "  This  must  be  thy  doom  ; 
Here  must  thou  struggle  ;  here,  alone, 
Repress  tired  nature's  rising  moan  :  " 
Oh  then,  my  soul,  how  hard  to  raise, 
In  such  an  hour,  the  song  of  praise  ! 


Stcfcnnis-  259 

To  look  on  all  this  scene  of  tears, 

Of  doubts,  of  wishes,  hopes,  and  fears, 

As  some  preluding  strain  that  tries 

Our  discords  and  our  harmonies  \ 

To  think  how  many  a  jarring  string 

The  Master-hand  in  tune  may  bring  ; 

How,  "finely-touched,"  the  soul  of  pride 

May  sink,  subdued  and  rectified  ; 

How,  taught  its  inmost  self  to  know, 

May  bless  the  hand  which  gave  the  blow  — 

Each  root  of  bitterness  removed, 

Each  plant  of  heavenly  grace  improved  ;  — 

Instructed  thus,  who  would  not  raise 

To  Heaven  his  song  of  cheerful  praise  ? 

To  feel  declining,  day  by  day, 

Each  harsher  murmur  die  away, 

And  secret  springs  of  joy  arise, 

To  lighten  up  the  weary  eyes  ; 

A  hand  invisible  to  feel, 

Wounding,  with  kind  design  to  heal, 

In  every  bitter  draught  to  think 

Of  Him  who  learned  that  cup  to  drink  ; 

Again  and  oft  again  to  look 

In  rapture  on  that  blessed  book, 

Whose  soothing  words  proclaim  to  thee 

That  "as  thy  day  thy  strength  shall  be  ;  " 

Then,  with  changed  heart  and  steadfast  mind, 

High  Heaven  before,  and  earth  behind, 


26°  Sttnmm  ©ortra* 

Thy  path,  of  pain  again  to  tread, 
Till  earth  receives  thy  wearied  head,  — 
Oh  blessed  lot !  who  would  not  raise, 
In  life  or  death,  the  song  of  praise  ? 

Emily  Taylor. 

I    WOULD    BE    THINE. 
T    IVING  or  dying,  Lord,  I  would  be  Thine ! 
-*— '  Oh  what  is  life  ! 

A  toil,  a  strife, 
Were  it  not  lighted  by  Thy  love  divine. 
I  ask  not  wealth, 
I  crave  not  health  ;  — 
Living  or  dying,  Lord,  I  would  be  Thine  ! 
Living  or  dying,  Lord,  I  would  be  Thine  ! 

Oh  what  is  death, 

When  the  poor  breath 
In  parting  can  the  soul  to  Thee  resign  ? 

While  patient  love 

Her  trust  doth  prove  ;  — 
Living  or  dying,  Lord,  I  would  be  Thine  ! 
Living  or  dying,  Lord,  I  would  be  Thine  ! 

Throughout  my  days 

Be  constant  praise 
Uplift  to  Thee  from  out  this  heart  of  mine  ; 

So  shall  I  be 

Brought  nearer  Thee,  — 
Living  or  dying,  Lord,  I  would  be  Thine  ! 

Paraphrased  from  Fen£lon  ;  by  Sarah  F.  Adams.     1841. 


<Stctwes8-  261 


REST. 

IT  was  Thy  will,  my  Father, 
That  laid  Thy  servant  low ; 
It  was  Thy  hand,  my  Father, 

That  dealt  the  chastening  blow ; 
It  was  Thy  mercy  bid  me  rest 

My  weary  soul  awhile, 
And  every  blessing  I  receive 
Reflects  Thy  gracious  smile. 

It  is  Thy  care,  my  Father, 

That  cherishes  me  now  ; 
It  is  Thy  peace,  my  Father, 

That  rests  upon  my  brow  ; 
It  is  Thy  truth,  Thy  truth  alone, 

That  gives  my  spirit  rest, 
And  soothes  me  like  a  happy  child 

Upon  its  mother's  breast. 

I  have  known  youth,  my  Father, 

Bright  as  a  summer's  day, 
And  earthly  love,  my  Father, 

But  that  too  passed  away  ; 
Now  life's  small  taper  faintly  burns, 

A  little  flickering  flame, 
But  Thine  eternal  love  remains 

Unchangeably  the  same. 

EUPHEMIA    SAXBY. 


262  cSttrmtm  ©ortra. 


SOON  — AND    FOR    EVER. 


"S' 


Such  promise  our  trust, 
Though  ashes  to  ashes, 

And  dust  unto  dust. 
Soon  —  and  for  ever 

Our  union  shall  be 
Made  perfect,  our  glorious 

Redeemer,  in  Thee. 
When  the  sins  and  the  sorrows 

Of  time  shall  be  o'er ; 
Its  pangs  and  its  partings 

Remembered  no  more  ; 
When  life  cannot  fail, 

And  when  death  cannot  sever, 
Christians  with  Christ  shall  be 

Soon  —  and  for  ever. 

Soon  —  and  for  ever 

The  breaking  of  day, 
Shall  drive  all  the  night-clouds 

Of  sorrow  away. 
Soon  —  and  for  ever 

We'll  see  as  we  're  seen, 
And  learn  the  deep  meaning, 

Of  things  that  have  been. 


Sfctmeaa-  263 

When  fightings  without  us, 

And  fears  from  within, 
Shall  weary  no  more 

In  the  warfare  of  sin  ; 
Where  tears,  and  where  fears, 

And  where  death  shall  be  —  never, 
Christians  with  Christ  shall  be 

Soon  —  and  for  ever. 

Soon  —  and  for  ever 

The  work  shall  be  done, 
The  warfare  accomplished, 

The  victory  won. 
Soon  —  and  for  ever 

The  soldier  lay  down 
His  sword  for  a  harp, 

And  his  cross  for  a  crown. 
Then  droop  not  in  sorrow, 

Despond  not  in  fear, 
A  glorious  to-morrow 

Is  brightening  and  near  ; 
When,  blessed  reward 

Of  each  faithful  endeavor, 
Christians  with  Christ  shall  be 

Soon  —  and  for  ever. 

44  Her    dyiftg   words    to    her    husband   were,    'Soon  —  and   for 
ever.'  "  —  Manuscript  letter. 

J.    S.    B.    MONSELL. 


264  Suvsum  ©ortra* 


w 


VESPERS. 
HEN  I  have  said  my  quiet  say, 


When  I  have  sung  my  little  song, 
How  sweetly,  sweetly  dies  the  day, 
The  valley  and  the  hill  along ; 
How  sweet  the  summons,  "  Come  away," 
That  calls  me  from  the  busy  throng  ! 
I  thought  beside  the  water's  flow 
Awhile  to  lie  beneath  the  leaves, 
I  thought  in  Autumn's  harvest  glow 
To  rest  my  head  upon  the  sheaves  \ 
But  lo  !  methinks  the  day  was  brief 
And  cloudy  ;  flower,  nor  fruit,  nor  leaf 
I  bring,  and  yet  accepted,  free 
And  blest,  my  Lord,  I  come  to  Thee. 
What  matter  now  for  promise  lost, 
Through  blast  of  spring  or  summer  rains  ! 
What  matter  now  for  purpose  crost, 
For  broken  hopes  and  wasted  pains ! 
What  if  the  olive  little  yields  ! 
What  if  the  grape  be  blighted  !  Thine 
The  corn  upon  a  thousand  fields, 
Upon  a  thousand  hills  the  vine. 
My  spirit  bare  before  Thee  stands  : 
I  bring  no  gift,  I  ask  no  sign, 
I  come  to  Thee  with  empty  hands, 
The  surer  to  be  filled  from  Thine  ! 


Dora  Gkeenwell. 


C^e   Last  ^our- 


THE    MYSTERY   OF    LIFE. 

"  Yea,  though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  I  will 
fear  no  evil ;  for  Thou  art  with  me." 

SLOWLY  —  slowly  —  darkening, 
The  evening  hours  roll  on  ; 
And  soon  behind  the  cloud-land 
Will  sink  my  setting  sun. 

Around  my  path  life's  mysteries 
Their  deepening  shadows  throw  ; 

And  as  I  gaze  and  ponder, 
They  dark  and  darker  grow. 

Yet  still,  amid  the  darkness, 

I  feel  the  light  is  near ; 
And  in  the  awful  silence 

God's  voice  I  seem  to  hear :  — 

But  I  hear  it  as  the  thunder, 

Or  the  murmuring  of  the  sea ; 
The  secret  it  is  telling,  — 

But  it  tells  it  not  to  me. 


266  Sunmm  ©ortra* 

Yet  hark  !  a  voice  above  me, 

Which  says,  "  Wait,  trust,  and  pray : 

The  night  will  soon  be  over  ; 
And  light  will  come  with  day." 

Amen !  the  light  and  darkness 

Are  both  alike  to  Thee  : 
Then  to  Thy  waiting  servant 

Alike  they  both  shall  be. 

That  great,  unending  future  ! 

I  cannot  pierce  its  shroud  ; 
But  I  nothing  doubt,  nor  tremble  : 

God's  bow  is  on  the  cloud. 

To  Him  I  yield  my  spirit ; 

On  Him  I  lay  my  load  : 
Fear  ends  with  death ;  beyond  it 

I  nothing  see  but  God. 

Thus  moving  towards  the  darkness, 
I  calmly  wait  His  call ; 

Seeing  — fearing  —  nothing ; 
Hoping —  trusting  —  all  ! 

Samuel  Greg. 


Cije  East  p?our.  267 


ABIDE    WITH    ME. 

ABIDE  with  me  !  fast  falls  the  even-tide  : 
The  darkness  deepens  ;  Lord,  with  me  abide  ! 
When  other  helpers  fail,  and  comforts  flee, 
Help  of  the  helpless,  oh,  abide  with  me  ! 

Swift  to  its  close  ebbs  out  life's  little  day  ; 
Earth's  joys  grow  dim  ;  its  glories  pass  away  ; 
Change  and  decay  in  all  around  I  see  : 

0  Thou,  who  changest  not,  abide  with  me  ! 

1  need  Thy  presence  every  passing  hour  ; 

What  but  Thy  grace  can  foil  the  tempter's  power  ? 
Who  like  Thyself  my  guide  and  stay  can  be  ? 
Through  cloud  and  sunshine,  oh,  abide  with  me  ! 

I  fear  no  foe,  with  Thee  at  hand  to  bless  : 
Ills  have  no  weight,  and  tears  no  bitterness  : 
Where  is  death's  sting  ?  where,  grave,  thy  victory  ? 
I  triumph  still,  if  Thou  abide  with  me  ! 

Hold,  then,  Thy  cross  before  my  closing  eyes  ! 
Shine  through  the  gloom,  and  point  me  to  the  skies  ! 
Heaven's  morning  breaks,  and  earth's  vain  shadows  flee  : 
In  life  and  death,  O  Lord,  abide  with  me  ! 

Henry  F.  Lyte.     1S47. 


268  <Sunmm  ©ortia* 


A    DYING   HYMN. 


EARTH,  with  its  dark  and  dreadful  ills, 
Recedes  and  fades  away ; 
Lift  up  your  heads,  ye  heavenly  hills ; 
Ye  gates  of  death,  give  way  ! 

My  soul  is  full  of  whispered  song ; 

My  blindness  is  my  sight  ; 
The  shadows  that  I  feared  so  long 

Are  all  alive  with  light. 

The  while  my  pulses  faintly  beat, 

My  faith  doth  so  abound, 
I  feel  grow  firm  beneath  my  feet 

The  green  immortal  ground. 

That  faith  to  me  a  courage  gives, 

Low  as  the  grave  to  go  \ 
I  know  that  my  Redeemer  lives,  — 

That  I  shall  live  I  know. 

The  palace  walls  I  almost  see 

Where  dwells  my  Lord  and  King; 

O  grave !  where  is  thy  victory  ? 
O  death  !  where  is  thy  sting  ? 


Alice  Cary. 


T 


Cije  East  pjour-  269 


THE    DAY    IS    DONE. 

*HE  day  is  done  : 
Soft  as  a  dream  the  sunset  fades  and  dies, 
And  silent  stars  amid  the  dusky  skies 
Shine  one  by  one. 

The  shadows  wait : 
And,  climbing  upward  over  spires  and  towers, 
Seem  drawing  softly  this  dull  earth  of  ours 

To  heaven's  gate. 

We  wait  the  night 
With  no  vain  thought  of  darkness  or  of  dread, 
But  dreams  of  peace  for  weary  heart  and  head, 

And  slumbers  light. 

We  wait,  nor  fear 
The  few  short  hours  of  silence  and  of  gloom 
Before  the  eastern  hills  shall  blush  with  bloom 

And  morn  be  near. 

My  God  !  my  all ! 
When  the  dim  hour  grows  near  us  by  Thy  grace 
To  meet  Thy  white  death-angels  face  to  face 

And  hear  Thy  call  ; 

When  life  lies  low  — 
A  gasping  shadow  by  the  altar  stairs 
That  leadeth  up  from  darkness  unawares 

To  heaven's  glow  ; 


2;o  Sursttm  ©ortra- 

Then  let  us  wait 
In  faith  and  trust  with  prayers  and  blessings  fond- 
All  mindful  of  the  morning  light  beyond  — 

Before  the  gate. 

Not  sore  distrest, 
But  calmly  folding  life's  dull  garb  away 
Lie  down  in  peace  to  wait  the  coming  day 

And  find  our  rest. 


THE    NEW    HEAVEN. 


Anonymous. 


LET  whosoever  will,  inquire 
Of  spirit  or  of  seer, 
To  shape  unto  the  heart's  desire 
The  new  life's  vision  clear. 

My  God,  I  rather  look  to  Thee 
Than  to  these  fancies  fond, 
And  wait  till  Thou  reveal  to  me 
That  fair  and  far  beyond. 

I  seek  not  of  Thy  Eden-land 
The  forms  and  hues  to  know, — 
What  trees  in  mystic  order  stand, 
What  strange,  sweet  waters  flow  ; 

What  duties  fill  the  heavenly  day, 
Or  converse  glad  and  kind, 
Or  how  along  each  shining  way 
The  bright  processions  wind. 


Cfje  Hast  ffyouv.  .271 

Oh,  joy !  to  hear  with  sense  new  born 
The  angels'  greeting  strains, 
And  sweet  to  see  the  first  fair  morn 
Gild  the  celestial  plains. 

But  sweeter  far  to  trust  in  Thee 
While  all  is  yet  unknown, 
And  through  the  death-dark  cheerily 
To  walk  with  Thee  alone. 

In  Thee,  my  powers,  my  treasures  live, 
To  Thee,  my  life  must  tend  ; 
Giving  Thyself,  Thou  all  dost  give, 
O  soul-sufficing  friend  ! 

And  wherefore  should  I  seek  above 
Thy  City  in  the  sky  ? 
Since  firm  in  faith,  and  deep  in  love, 
Its  broad  foundations  lie  ? 

Since  in  a  life  of  peace  and  prayer, 
Nor  known  on  earth,  nor  praised, 
By  humblest  toil,  by  ceaseless  care, 
Its  holy  towers  are  raised. 

Where  faith  the  soul  hath  purified, 
And  penitence  hath  shriven, 
And  truth  is  crowned  and  glorified, 
There  —  only  there  —  is  Heaven. 

Eliza  Scudder.     1855. 


272  <Sttrmtm  (ftortta* 


THE    GOD    OF   THE    LIVING. 

GOD  of  the  living,  in  whose  eyes 
Unveiled  Thy  whole  creation  lies  ! 
All  souls  are  Thine  ;  we  must  not  say 
That  those  are  dead  who  pass  away  ; 
From  this  our  world  of  flesh  set  free, 
We  know  them  living  unto  Thee. 

Released  from  earthly  toil  and  strife, 

With  Thee  is  hidden  still  their  life  ; 

Thine  are  their  thoughts,  their  words,  their  powers, 

All  Thine,  and  yet  most  truly  ours  ; 

For  well  we  know,  where'er  they  be, 

Our  dead  are  living  unto  Thee. 

Not  spilt  like  water  on  the  ground, 
Not  wrapt  in  dreamless  sleep  profound, 
Not  wandering  in  unknown  despair 
Beyond  Thy  voice,  Thine  arm,  Thy  care  ; 
Not  left  to  lie  like  fallen  tree  ; 
Not  dead,  but  living  unto  Thee. 

O  Breather  into  man  of  breath, 

O  Holder  of  the  keys  of  death, 

O  Giver  of  the  life  within, 

Save  us  from  death,  the  death  of  sin, 

That  body,  soul,  and  spirit  be 

F'or  ever  living  unto  Thee  ! 

John  Ellerton.     1867. 


Eije  Hast  P?ottt\ 


SONG    FROM    SINTRAM. 

WHEN  death  is  drawing  near, 
And  thy  heart  shrinks  in  fear, 
And  thy  limbs  fail  ; 
Then  lift  thy  hands  and  pray 
To  Him  who  smooths  the  way 
Through  the  dark  vale. 

Seest  thou  the  eastern  dawn  ? 
Hearest  thou  in  the  red  morn 

The  angels'  song  ? 
Oh  !  lift  thy  drooping  head, 
Thou  who  in  gloom  and  dread 

Hast  lain  so  long. 
Death  comes  to  set  thee  free, 
Oh,  meet  him  cheerily 

As  thy  true  friend  ! 
And  all  thy  fears  shall  cease, 
And  in  eternal  peace 

Thy  trial  end. 


De  la  Mothk  Fouqub. 


AT    NOONTIDE    CAME    A   VOICE. 

AT  noontide  came  a  voice,  "  Thou  must  away  ; 
Hast  thou  some  look  to  give,  some  word  to  say, 

Or  hear,  of  fond  farewell  ? "  —  I  answered,  "  Nay. 
18 


274  cSuraum  (ftortra* 

"  My  soul  hath  said  its  farewell  long  ago  ; 

How  light,  when  Summer  comes,  the  loosened  snow 

Slides  from  the  hills  !  yet  tell  me,  where  /go, 

"  Doth  any  wait  for  me  ?  "    Then  like  the  clear, 
Full  drops  of  summer  rain,  that  seem  to  cheer 
The  skies  they  fall  from,  soft  within  mine  ear, 

And  slow,  as  if  to  render  through  that  sweet 
Delay  a  blest  assurance  more  complete, 
"  Yea,"  only  "  yea,"  was  whispered  me,  and  then 
A  silence  that  was  unto  it,  Amen. 

"  Doth  any  love  me  there,"  I  said,  "or  mark 
Within  the  dull,  cold  flint  the  fiery  spark 
One  moment  flashing  out  into  the  dark  ? 

"  My  spirit  glowed,  yet  burned  not  to  a  clear, 
Warm,  steadfast  flame,  to  lighten  or  to  cheer." 
The  sweet  voice  said,  "  By  things  which  do  appear 

"  We  judge  amiss.     The  flower  which  wears  its  way  , 
Through  stony  chinks,  lives  on  from  day  to  day, 
Approved  for  living,  let  the  rest  be  gay 

"  And  sweet  as  Summer  !   Heaven  within  the  reed 
Lists  for  the  flute-note,  in  the  folded  seed 
It  sees  the  bud,  and  in  the  Will  the  Deed." 

Dora  Greenwell. 


T\)t  2Ust  ©our.  275 


THE    SOUL'S    PARTING. 

SHE  sat  within  Life's  Banquet  Hall  at  noon, 
When  word  was  brought  unto  her  secretly  : 
"The  Master  cometh  onwards  quickly  ;  soon 
Across  the  threshold  He  will  call  for  thee." 
Then  she  rose  up  to  meet  Him  at  the  door, 
But  turning,  courteous,  made  a  farewell  brief 
To  those  that  sat  around.     From  Care  and  Grief 
She  parted  first  :  "  Companions  sworn  and  true 
Have  ye  been  ever  to  me ;  but  for  friends 
I  knew  ye  not  till  later,  and  did  miss 
Much  solace  through  that  error  ;  let  this  kiss, 
Late  known  and  prized,  be  taken  for  amends. 
Thou,  too,  kind,  constant  Patience,  with  thy  slow, 
Sweet  counsels  aiding  me  ;  I  did  not  know 
That  ye  were  angels,  until  ye  displayed 
Your  wings  for  flight ;  now  bless  me  !  "  but  they  said, 
"  We  blest  thee  long  ago." 

Then  turning  unto  twain 

That  stood  together,  tenderly  and  oft 

She  kissed  them  on  their  foreheads,  whispering  soft  : 

"  Xow  must  we  part  ;  yet  leave  me  not  before 

Ye  see  me  enter  safe  within  the  Door  • 

Kind  bosom-comforters,  that  by  my  side 

The  darkest  hour  found  ever  closest  bide  ; 


276  Sunmm  Gtortrau 

A  dark  hour  waits  me,  ere  for  evermore 
Night  with  its  heaviness  be  overpast ; 
Stay  with  me  till  I  cross  the  Threshold  o'er." 
So  Faith  and  Hope  stayed  by  her  to  the  last. 

But  giving  both  her  hands 

To  one  that  stood  the  nearest :  "  Thou  and  I 

May  pass  together  ;  for  the  holy  bands 

God  knits  on  earth  are  never  loosed  on  high. 

Long  have  I  walked  with  Thee  ;  Thy  name  arose 

E'en  in  my  sleep,  and  sweeter  than  the  close 

Of  music  was  Thy  voice  ;  for  Thou  vvert  sent 

To  lead  me  homewards  from  my  banishment 

By  devious  ways  ;  and  never  hath  my  heart 

Swerved  from  Thee,  though  our  hands  were  wrung  apart 

By  spirits  sworn  to  sever  us  ;  above 

Soon  shall  I  look  upon  Thee  as  Thou  art." 

So  she  crossed  o'er  with  Love. 

Dora  Greenwell. 


EPITAPH    ON    AN    OLD    MAID. 

REST,  gentle  traveller,  on  life's  toilsome  way  ; 
Pause  here  awhile  ;  yet  o'er  this  lifeless  clay 
No  weeping,  but  a  joyful  tribute  pay. 

For  this  green  nook,  by  sun  and  showers  made  warm, 
Gives  welcome  rest  to  an  o'erwearied  form, 
Whose  mortal  life  knew  many  a  wintry  storm. 


&J)c  ILaut  Pjour-  277 

Yet,  ere  the  spirit  gained  a  full  release 

From  earth,  she  had  attained  that  land  of  peace 

Where  seldom  clouds  obscure,  where  tempests  cease. 

No  chosen  spot  of  ground  she  called  her  own  ; 
She  reaped  no  harvest  in  her  spring-time  sown  ; 
Yet  always  in  her  path  some  flowers  were  strown. 

No  dear  ones  were  her  own  peculiar  care, 
So  was  her  bounty  free  as  heaven's  air ; 
For  every  claim  she  had  enough  to  spare. 

And  loving  more  the  heart  to  give  than  lend, 
Though  oft  deceived  in  many  a  trusty  friend, 
She  hoped,  believed,  and  trusted  to  the  end. 

She  had  her  joys  :  'twas  joy  to  live,  to  love, 
To  labor  in  the  world  with  God  above, 
And  tender  hearts  that  ever  near  did  move. 

She  had  her  griefs  ;  but  why  recount  them  here,  — 
The  heartsick  loneness,  the  onlooking  fear, 
The  days  of  desolation,  dark  and  drear. 

Since  every  agony  left  peace  behind, 

And  healing  came  on  every  stormy  wind, 

And  with  pure  brightness  every  cloud  was  lined. 

And  every  loss  sublimed  some  low  desire, 
And  every  sorrow  helped  her  to  aspire, 
Till  waiting  angels  bade  her  go  up  higher  ! 

The  Englishwoman's  Journal. 


278  cSttnmm  ftortriu 


IN    MEMORIAM. 

F.    D.    B. 

A  I  ^O  pass  through  life  beloved  as  few  are  loved, 

-*-       To  prove  the  joys  of  earth  as  few  have  proved, 
And  still  to  keep  thy  soul's  white  robe  unstained, 
Such  is  the  victory  which  thou  hast  gained. 

How  few  like  thine,  the  pilgrim  feet  have  come 
Unworn,  unwounded,  to  the  heavenly  home  ! 
Yet  He  who  guides  in  sorrow's  sorest  need, 
As  well  by  pleasant  paths  His  own  may  lead. 

And  love,  that  guides  where  wintry  tempests  beat, 
To  thee  was  shelter  from  the  summer  heat. 
What  need  for  grief  to  blight,  or  ills  annoy, 
The  heart  whose  God  was  her  exceeding  joy  ? 

And  so  that  radiant  path,  all  sweet  and  pure, 
Found  fitting  close  in  perfect  peace  secure  ; 
No  haste  to  go,  no  anxious  wish  to  stay, 
No  childish  terror  of  the  untried  way. 

But  wrapped  in  trance  of  holy  thought  and  prayer, 
Yet  full  of  human  tenderness  and  care, 
Undimmed  its  lustre  and  unchilled  its  love, 
Thy  spirit  passed  to  cloudless  light  above. 


In  the  far  North,  where,  over  frosts  and  gloom, 
The  midnight  skies  with  rosy  brightness  bloom, 
There  comes  in  all  the  year  one  day  complete, 
Wherein  the  sunset  and  the  sunrise  meet. 

So,  in  the  region  of  thy  fearless  faith, 
No  hour  of  darkness  marked  the  approach  of  death  ; 
But,  ere  the  evening  splendor  was  withdrawn, 
Fair  flushed  the  light  along  the  hills  of  dawn. 

Eliza  Scudder.    Dec.  4,  1871. 

AH,    WELL!    SHE    HAD    HER   WILL. 

AH,  well  !  she  had  her  will, 
Though  not  as  she  decreed  it.     God  saw  best 
To  plant  the  warfare  in  her  own  poor  breast, 
To  make  herself  her  hardest,  bitterest  ill. 
Hers  was  a  battle  where  no  mortal  eye 

Beamed  courage,  and  no  voice  cried,  "Well  !  " 
But  in  the  view  of  angel  companies 
She  rose  and  fell. 

She  seemed  not  great,  nor  good. 

She  stood,  her  little  space,  amid  the  world  : 
A  soldier,  with  a  banner  half  unfurled, 

A  pure  high  nature  half  misunderstood. 

She  loved,  yet  none  clung  closely  to  her  side  ; 
She  lived,  yet  scarcely  seemed  to  help  a  child. 

Few  shed  a  tear  of  sorrow  when  she  died  ; 

The  angels  smiled.  Voices  ok  Comfort. 


28o  <3ur*um  ©ortra* 


OUT    OF    THE    SHADOW. 

The  Lord  looseth  the  prisoners ;  the  Lord  openeth  the  eyes  of  the 
blind.  —  Ps.  cxlvi.  7,  8. 

GENTLE  friends  who  gather  here, 
With  no  gloom  surround  this  bier, 
Drop  no  unavailing  tear. 

Bid  this  weary  frame  oppressed 

Welcome  to  its  longed-for  rest 

On  the  fair  earth's  sheltering  breast. 

And  the  spirit  freed  from  clay 
Give  glad  leave  to  soar  away, 
Singing,  to  the  eternal  day. 

When  this  sentient  life  began, 
Love  of  Nature,  love  of  man, 
Through  its  kindling  pulses  ran  \ 

Eagerly  these  eyes  looked  forth, 
Questioning  the  teeming  earth 
For  its  stores  of  truth  and  worth  ; 

Head  and  heart  with  schemes  were  rife, 
Longing  for  some  noble  strife, 
Planning  for  some  perfect  life. 


2TJ)e  Hast  p?our-  281 

But  the  Father's  love  decreed 
Other  work  and  other  meed, 
And  by  ways  unsought  did  lead ; 

Turned  aside  the  out-stretched  hand, 

Bade  the  feet  inactive  stand, 

Checked  the  task  that  thought  had  planned  ; 

And  on  eyes  that  loved  to  gaze 
Upon  light's  intensest  rays 
Dropped  a  veil  of  gentle  haze. 

How  the  musing  spirit  burned  ! 
How  the  wilful  nature  yearned, 
And  its  sacred  limits  spurned  ! 

Known,  O  Father,  unto  Thee 

All  the  long  captivity 

Of  the  soul  at  last  set  free  ; 

And  how  hard  it  was  to  see 
Thy  great  harvests  silently 
Whitening  upon  land  and  lea ; 

And  to  watch  the  reapers'  throng, 
Filling  all  the  vales  with  song, 
As  they  bore  their  sheaves  along. 

And  to  Thee,  O  pitying  God, 
Known  Thy  grace  that  overflowed 
All  that  still  and  sacred  road, 


282  cSttnmm  (ftortra* 

Where  Thy  patience  brought  relief, 
Following  in  Thy  path  of  grief, 
Thou  of  suffering  souls  the  chief  ! 

Yet  since  Thou  hast  stooped  to  say, 
"  Cast  thy  out-worn  robe  away, 
Come  and  rest  with  me  to-day,  — 

"  Come  to  larger  life  and  power, 
Come  to  truth's  unfailing  dower, 
Come  to  strength  renewed  each  hour  ; "  — 

To  the  dear  ones  gathered  here 
Make  Thy  loving  purpose  clear, 
And  Thy  light  shine  round  this  bier. 

Eliza  Scudder.     1872. 


HE   WHO    DIED   AT   AZIM. 


H 


E  who  died  at  Azim  sends 

This  to  comfort  all  his  friends 


Faithful  friends  !     It  lies,  I  know, 
Pale  and  white  and  cold  as  snow  ; 
And  ye  say,  "  Abdullah's  dead  !  " 
Weeping  at  the  feet  and  head. 
I  can  see  your  falling  tears, 
I  can  hear  your  sighs  and  prayers  ; 


arije  Hast  pjour-  283 

Yet  I  smile  and  whisper  this  : 

11  I  am  not  the  thing  you  kiss  ; 

Cease  your  tears,  and  let  it  lie ; 

It  was  mine,  it  is  not  I. 

"  Sweet  friends  !  what  the  women  lave 

For  the  last  sleep  of  the  grave, 

Is  a  hut  which  I  am  quitting  ; 

Is  a  garment  no  more  fitting  ; 

Is  a  cage,  from  which,  at  last, 

Like  a  bird,  my  soul  hath  passed. 

Love  the  inmate,  not  the  room  ; 

The  wearer,  not  the  garb  ;  the  plume 

Of  the  eagle,  not  the  bars 

That  kept  him  from  those  splendid  stars. 

"  Loving  friends  !  be  wise  and  dry 
Straightway  every  weeping  eye. 
What  ye  lift  upon  the  bier 
Is  not  worth  a  single  tear. 
'Tis  an  empty  sea-shell,  one 
Out  of  which  the  pearl  is  gone  ; 
The  shell  is  broken,  it  lies  there  ; 
The  pearl,  the  all,  the  soul,  is  here. 
'Tis  an  earthen  jar,  whose  lid 
Allah  sealed,  the  while  it  hid 
That  treasure  of  his  treasury, 
A  mind  that  loved  Him  :  let  it  lie  ; 
Let  the  shards  be  earth  once  more, 
Since  the  gold  is  in  His  store. 


284  Sttnrom  <£orTra* 

"  Allah  glorious  !  Allah  good  ! 
Now  Thy  world  is  understood  ; 
Now  the  long,  long  wonder  ends  ; 
Yet  ye  weep,  my  foolish  friends, 
While  the  man  whom  ye  call  dead, 
In  unspoken  bliss,  instead, 
Lives  and  loves  you  ;  lost,  'tis  true, 
For  the  light  that  shines  for  you, 
But  in  the  light  ye  cannot  see, 
Of  undisturbed  felicity,  — 
In  a  perfect  Paradise, 
And  a  life  that  never  dies. 

"  Farewell,  friends  !     But  not  farewell : 
Where  I  am,  ye  too  shall  dwell. 
I  am  gone  before  your  face, 
A  moment's  march,  a  little  space. 
When  ye  come  where  I  have  stepped 
Ye  will  wonder  why  ye  wept. 
Ye  will  know,  by  true  love  taught, 
That  here  is  all,  and  there  is  naught  ; 
Weep  awhile,  if  ye  are  fain  ; 
Sunshine  still  must  follow  rain  ; 
Only  not  at  Death,  for  Death, 
Now  we  know,  is  that  first  breath 
Which  our  souls  draw  when  we  enter 
Life,  which  is  of  all  life  centre. 


£f)e  Hast  Pjour-  285 

"  Be  ye  certain,  all  seems  love 
Viewed  from  Allah's  throne  above. 
Be  ye  stout  of  heart,  and  come 
Bravely  onward  to  your  home. 
La-il  Allah  —  Allah  la, 
O  Love  divine,  O  Love  alway  !  " 

He  who  died  at  Azim  gave 

This  to  those  who  made  his  grave. 

Persian  Poet  of  the  Twelfth  Century. 


IN   MEMORIAM. 

FAREWELL  !  since  nevermore  for  thee 
The  sun  comes  up  our  eastern  skies, 
Less  bright  henceforth  shall  sunshine  be 
To  some  fond  hearts  and  saddened  eyes. 

There  are,  who  for  thy  last,  long  sleep, 
Shall  sleep  as  sweetly  nevermore  ; 

Shall  weep  because  thou  canst  not  weep, 
And  grieve  that  all  thy  griefs  are  o'er. 

Sad  thrift  of  love  !  the  loving  breast 
On  which  the  aching  head  was  thrown 

Gave  up  the  weary  head  to  rest, 
But  kept  the  aching  for  its  own. 


R.  J.     1867. 


286  Surmuu  (Korxra. 


THE    CONQUEROR'S    GRAVE. 

WITHIN  this  lowly  grave  a  Conqueror  lies, 
And  yet  the  monument  proclaims  it  not, 
Nor  round  the  sleeper's  name  hath  chisel  wrought 
The  emblems  of  a  fame  that  never  dies,  — 
Ivy  and  amaranth,  in  a  graceful  sheaf, 
Twined  with  the  laurel's  fair  imperial  leaf. 
A  simple  name  alone, 
To  the  great  world  unknown, 
Is  graven  here,  and  wild-flowers  rising  round, 
Meek  meadow-sweet,  and  violets  of  the  ground, 
Lean  lovingly  against  the  humble  stone. 

Here,  in  the  quiet  earth,  they  laid  apart 
No  man  of  iron  mould  and  bloody  hands, 
Who  sought  to  wreak  upon  the  cowering  lands 

The  passions  that  consumed  his  restless  heart ; 
But  one  of  tender  spirit  and  delicate  frame, 
Gentlest,  in  mien  and  mind, 
Of  gentle  womankind, 
Timidly  shrinking  from  the  breath  of  blame  ; 

One  in  whose  eyes  the  smile  of  kindness  made 
Its  haunt,  like  flowers  by  sunny  brooks  in  May, 

Yet,  at  the  thought  of  others'  pain,  a  shade 
Of  sweeter  sadness  chased  the  smile  away. 

Nor  deem  that  when  the  hand  that  moulders  here 
Was  raised  in  menace,  realms  were  chilled  with  fear, 


Ef)t  East  Jfyouv.  287 

And  armies  mustered  at  the  sign,  as  when 
Clouds  rise  on  clouds  before  the  rainy  East,  — 

Gray  captains  leading  bands  of  veteran  men 
And  fiery  youths  to  be  the  vulture's  feast. 
Not  thus  were  waged  the  mighty  wars  that  gave 
The  victory  to  her  who  fills  this  grave  : 
Alone  her  task  was  wrought, 
Alone  the  battle  fought  ; 
Through  that  long  strife  her  constant  hope  was  staid 
On  God  alone,  nor  looked  for  other  aid. 

She  met  the  hosts  of  Sorrow  with  a  look 

That  altered  not  beneath  the  frown  they  wore, 
And  soon  the  lowering  brood  were  tamed,  and  took, 

Meekly,  her  gentle  rule,  and  frowned  no  more. 
Her  soft  hand  put  aside  the  assaults  of  wrath, 
And  calmly  brok^  in  twain 
The  fiery  shafts  of  pain, 
And  rent  the  nets  of  passion  from  her  path. 

By  that  victorious  hand  despair  was  slain  ; 
With  love  she  vanquished  hate,  and  overcame 

Evil  with  good,  in  her  great  Master's  name. 

Her  glory  is  not  of  this  shadowy  state, 
Glory  that  with  the  fleeting  season  dies ; 

But,  when  she  entered  at  the  sapphire  gate, 
What  joy  was  radiant  in  celestial  eyes  ! 

How  heaven's  bright    depths  with  sounding  welcomes 
rung, 


288  Sursttm  ©ortra* 

And  flowers  of  heaven  by  shining  hands  were  flung ! 

And  He  who,  long  before, 

Pain,  scorn,  and  sorrow  bore, 
The  Mighty  Sufferer,  with  aspect  sweet, 
Smiled  on  the  timid  stranger  from  his  seat ; 
He  who  returning,  glorious,  from  the  grave, 
Dragged  Death,  disarmed,  in  chains,  a  crouching  slave. 

See,  as  I  linger  here,  the  sun  grows  low ; 

Cool  airs  are  murmuring  that  the  night  is  near. 
O  gentle  sleeper,  from  thy  grave  I  go, 

Consoled  though  sad,  in  hope  and  yet  in  fear. 
Brief  is  the  time,  I  know, 
The  warfare  scarce  begun  ; 
Yet  all  may  win  the  triumphs  thou  hast  won. 
Still  flows  the  fount  whose  waters  strengthened  thee  ; 

The  victors'  names  are  yet  too  few  to  fill 
Heaven's  mighty  roll  ;  the  glorious  armory, 

That  ministered  to  thee,  is  open  still. 

William  C.  Bryant. 

IN    MEMORY 
Of  the   Lady  Augusta   Stanley. 

"  Ye  shall  indeed  drink  of  the  ctcp  that  I  drink  of.  " 
"They  serve  Him  day  and  night?' 

OH,  blessed  life  of  service  and  of  love  ! 
Heart  wide  as  life,  deep  as  life's  deepest  woe ; 
His  servants  serve  Him  day  and  night  above. 
Thou  servedst  day  and  night,  we  thought,  below. 


2TJ)t  East  jfyouv.  289 

Hands  full  of  blessings  lavished  far  and  wide, 
Hands  tender  to  bind  up  hearts  wounded  sore  ; 

Stooping  quite  down  earth's  lowest  needs  beside,  — 
Master,  like  17iee  !  we  thought,  and  said  no  more. 

Oh,  nerves  and  heart  racked  to  their  utmost  strain  ; 

Hands  stretched  in  helplessness  to  serve  no  more  \ 
Dulled  by  no  slumber  to  thy  deepest  pain,  — 

Master,  like  Thee  !  w7e  wept,  and  said  no  more. 

We  o'er  all  sorrow  would  have  raised  thee  up, 

Crowned  with  life's  choicest  blossoms  night  and  morn  ; 

God  made  thee  drink  of  His  Beloved's  cup, 

And  crowned  thee  with  the  Master's  crown  of  thorn. 

Looking  from  thee  to  Him  once  wounded  sore, 
We  learned  a  little  more  His  face  to  see ; 

Then,  looking  from  the  cross  for  us  He  bore, 
To  thine,  we  almost  understood  for  thee  ! 

Till  now,  again  !  we  gaze  on  thee  above, 

Strong  and  unwearied,  serving  clay  and  night ; 

Oh,  blessed  life  of  service  and  of  love ! 

Master,  like  Thee,  and  with  Thee,  in  Thy  light  ! 

Elizabeth  Charles. 
March  9,  1S76. 


19 


290  cSursum  ©ortta* 


THE    RETURN    HOME. 

CAFE  home,  safe  home  in  port ! 

*— '     Rent  cordage,  shattered  deck, 

Torn  sails,  provisions  short, 

And  only  not  a  wreck  : 
But  oh  the  joy  upon  the  shore, 
To  tell  our  voyage-perils  o'er ! 

The  prize,  the  prize  secure  ! 

The  athlete  nearly  fell ; 

Bare  all  he  could  endure, 

And  bare  not  always  well  : 
But  he  may  smile  at  troubles  gone 
Who  sets  the  victor-garland  on ! 

No  more  the  foe  can  harm ; 

No  more  of  leaguered  camp, 

And  cry  of  night-alarm, 

And  need  of  ready  lamp  : 
And  yet  how  nearly  he  had  failed,  — 
How  nearly  had  that  foe  prevailed ! 

St.  Joseph  of  the  Studium.     a.d.  870. 
Tr.  by  J.  Mason  Neale. 


3T!je  Hast  JL)ouv.  291 


HYMN    SUNG   AT   A   FUNERAL. 

COME  forth  !  come  on,  with  solemn  song  ! 
The  road  is  short,  the  rest  is  long ! 
The  Lord  brought  here,  He  calls  away : 

Make  no  delay, 
This  home  was  for  a  passing  day. 

Here  in  an  inn  a  stranger  dwelt, 
Here  joy  and  grief  by  turns  he  felt ; 
Poor  dwelling,  now  we  close  thy  door! 

The  task  is  o'er, 
The  sojourner  returns  no  more  ! 

Now  of  a  lasting  home  possest, 
He  goes  to  seek  a  deeper  rest. 
Good  night !  the  day  was  sultry  here, 

In  toil  and  fear, 
Good  night !  the  night  is  cool  and  clear. 


F.  Sachse. 


En&ej:   of  Cities, 


Pagk 

Abide  in  Me  and  I  in  you 34 

Abide  with  Me 267 

Act  of  Faith  in  Sickness,  An 254 

Ah  well  !  she  had  her  Will 279 

A  Little  Bird  I  am 241 

All,  all  is  known  to  Thee 208 

All's  well 74 

Angel  of  Patience,  The 169 

Art  thou  weary 179 

As  pants  the  Hart 46 

As  the  Hart  panteth 37 

As  Thou  wilt 191 

At  All  Times 126 

At  Anchor 247 

At  Noontide  came  a  Voice 273 

Away,  my  Needless  Fears 139 

Behold,  O  Lord 246 

Behold  the  Fowls  of  the  Air 8S 

Beneath  Thine  Hammer 12 

Be  not  far  from  me 221 

Be  still 19S 


294  Kutrcp  of  &itltn. 

Page 

Blessed  are  they  that  mourn 167 

Blind  Asleep,  The 149 

Border-Lands,  The 231 

Casting  all  your  Care  upon  Him 119 

Cast  thy  Burden  upon  the  Lord 16 

Chant,  A - I 

Chastening  of  the  Lord,  The 186 

Childlike  Submission 131 

Commit  thou  all  thy  Griefs 136 

Complaint  of  a  Pilgrim,  The 177 

Conqueror's  Grave,  The 286 

Content  to  suffer 161 

Couplets 161 

Cry  for  Help,  A 7 

Cry  of  the  Soul,  A 41 

Day  is  done,  The 269 

Dayspring  of  Eternity 67 

Deaf  and  the  Blind,  The 151 

Dear  Refuge  of  my  Weary  Soul 26 

Declension  and  Revival 134 

De  Profundi's 166 

Despondency  corrected 159 

Discipline 152 

Divine  Ejaculation 46 

Divine  Love 35 

Divine  Whisper,  The 112 

Dryness  in  Prayer 157 

Dying  Hymn,  A 26S 

Easter-Day 146 

E'en  brings  a'  Hame,  The 200 


fiirtrep  of  Cities.  295 

Page 

Employment 54 

Entire  Consecration 47 

Epitaph  on  an  Old  Maid 276 

Eternal  Goodness,  The 88 

Eternal  Years,  The 176 

Evening  Hymn 71 

Evening  Hymn 76 

Evening  Prayer  in  Sickness 217 

Father,  I  have  sinned 24 

Father  of  Love 82 

Feeble,  helpless 224 

Following 124 

For  a  wakeful  Night 218 

For  Divine  Strength 45 

Foreboding 185 

For  ever  with  the  Lord 141 

Forgiveness  of  God,  The 20 

For  one  visited  with  Sickness 205 

German  Trust- Song,  A 93 

God  knoweth 123 

God  knows  the  best 165 

God  of  my  Life      .     .     , 95 

God  of  the  Living,  The 272 

God's  Sure  Help  in  Sorrow 25 

Grand  Dieu,  pour  Ton  Plaisir 240 

Guest,  The 155 

Guiding  Hand,  The 193 

Hand  of  God,  The 164 

Happiness  Found 138 

Heavenly  Solitude,  A 60 


296  Xtttttr  of  titles. 

Page 

He  doeth  all  Things  well 207 

He  giveth  Songs  in  the  Night 162 

Here  am  I 223 

He  sends  it 166 

He  shall  give  His  Angels  Charge 106 

He  who  died  at  Azim 282 

Hope  is  better  than  Ease 212 

Hour  of  Darkness,  The 11 

Humbly  wait 32 

Hymn  for  Sickness 204 

Hymn  for  the  Blind 150 

Hymn  for  the  Sick 255 

Hymn  of  Trust Ill 

Hymn  sung  at  a  Funeral 291 

I,  even  I,  am  He  that  comforteth  you 85 

I  hold  still 222 

I  lay  my  Head 13 

In  Memoriam 285 

In  Memoriam,  F.  D.  B 278 

In  Memory  of  the  Lady  Augusta  Stanley 288 

In  Sickness 210 

In  Thee  I  trust 100 

In  the  Hospital 22S 

In  the  Night-Watches 40 

I  Paul,  a  Prisoner  of  the  Lord 244 

I  shall  not  want 63 

I  thank  Thee  for  the  Loneliness 156 

It  is  good  for  me 212 

It  is  the  Lord 225 

I  want  the  Spirit  of  Power  within 58 

I  will  not  fear 29 

I  would  be  Thine 260 


Ktititv  of  Cities.  297 

Page 

Joy  after  Sorrow 79 

Kingdom  of  God,  The 97 

Lamentation  of  a  Sinner 19 

Last  Wish,  The 158 

Levavi  Oculos 22 

Life 94 

Life's  Answer 108 

Light  of  Thy  Countenance,  The 227 

Longing  Spirit,  The 33 

Looking  unto  God 121 

Lord,  be  Thou  my  Helper 250 

Lord  is  my  Portion,  The 91 

Love  of  God,  The 118 

Love  of  the  Cross 184 

Lovest  thou  Me 238 

Lying  Still 173 

Medicine 162 

Merciful  Providence  of  God,  The 77 

Midnight  Hymn 74 

Midwinter 202 

Ministering  Angels 256 

Morning  Hymn 68 

My  Deliverer 130 

My  God,  remember  me 13 

My  Psalm 116 

Mv  Psalm 214 

Mystery  of  Life,  The 265 

My  Strength  and  my  Hope 36 

My  Times  are  in  Thy  Hand 92 

My  Times  are  in  Thy  Hand 101 


298  XutoF  of  titles* 

Page 

Nearer  to  Thee 38 

New  Covenant,  The 43 

New  Heaven,  The 270 

Night 73 

Nil  Laudibus  Nostris  eges 65 

Ninety-First  Psalm 120 

No  longer  doubt 31 

Now  it  belongs  not  to  my  Care 253 

Oh  !  draw  me 53 

Oh,  let  my  utter  Helplessness 39 

O  Lord,  how  happy  is  the  Time 80 

O  Lord  !  I  know 216 

O  Love  Divine 55 

One  Army  of  the  Living  God 226 

On  leaving  Home  for  a  Milder  Climate 245 

Open,  Lord,  my  inward  Ear 61 

O  Thou  from  Whom  all  Goodness  flows 18 

O  Thou  Whose  All-enlivening  Ray 231 

Our  Daily  Bread 90 

Our  Stronghold  of  Hope 180 

Out  of  the  Shadow 280 

Patience 174 

Patient  Faith 171 

Peace 122 

Peace  in  Trouble 144 

Peace  like  a  River 57 

Peace  of  God,  The 49 

Peace,  Troubled  Soul 96 

Penitent,  The 15 

Per  Pacem  ad  Lucem 190 

Pilgrim  of  Earth 202 


Xntftv  ot  titles.  299 

Page 

Pillar  of  the  Cloud,  The 129 

Prayer  for  Guidance 51 

Prayer  for  Help 27 

Praver  for  Rest,  A 105 

Prayer  for  Strength 8 

Prayer  for  Strong  Faith 66 

Prayer  in  Grief 17 

Prayer  in  Mental  Conflict 5 

Psalm  XXIII 132 

Psalm  LVII 23 

Psalm  LXIII 40 

Psalm  CXXX 21 

Psalm  CXXXI .  113 

Pulley,  The 133 

Quiet  from  God 140 

Quiet,  Hoping  Heart,  The 145 

Reconciliation 104 

Redemption  Found 143 

Rejoicing  in  Tribulation 258 

Remember  me 196 

Resignation 20S 

Resignation 221 

Resignation 239 

Rest 261 

Resting  in  God 114 

Rest  in  God      .     .     .     .     > 160 

Resting  on  God 210 

Rest,  Weary  Heart 31 

Returning  Dove,  The 42 

Return  Home,  The 290 

Rich  in  the  Lord 167 


30°  Xv&tv  of  titles* 

Page 

Sabbath  Sonnet 256 

Secret  of  Content,  The 82 

Secret  Place  of  the  Most  High,  The no 

Smoking  Flax  and  Pruised  Reed,  The 107 

Song  from  Sintram 273 

Song  of  Resignation 178 

Song  of  Trust,  A 99 

Sonnet 199 

Sonnet  on  his  Blindness 148 

Soon  —  and  for  ever 262 

Soul's  Parting,  The 275 

Sovereign  Ruler  of  the  Skies 200 

Spirit  of  God,  The 62 

Strength 229 

Submission 31 

Submission 188 

Sursum  Corda 50 

Sweet  Patience,  Come 235 

Thanksgiving,  A 98 

Thee  will  I  love 59 

Thou  art  my  Health 248 

Thought  of  God,  The 251 

Thou  Hidden  Love  of  God 44 

Thou  knowest,  Lord 30 

Thou  very  Present  Aid 172 

Thou  wilt  not  forsake  me 220 

Thy  Hand  shall  lead  me 236 

Thy  Way,  not  mine 86 

Thy  Will  be  done 187 

Thy  Will  be  done 194 

Tired 147 


xniftv  of  arctics.  301 

Page 

'Tis  all  the  same  to  me 195 

To  be  or  not  to  be 130 

Transverse  and  Parallel 174 

Trials 182 

True  Rest 135 

Trust  in  Divine  Goodness 154 

Trust  in  God 153 

Trust  in  Sorrow 173 

Trust  in  the  Lord  at  All  Times 233 

Uncertainty 9 

Under  a  Heavy  Private  Cross 14 

Up  to  the  Hills 52 

Vesper  Hymn 70 

Vespers 264 

Waiting 249 

Waldensian  Hymn 183 

Wanderer's  Hymn,  The 243 

Wayside  Watcher,  The 214 

What  my  Friend  said  to  me 185 

When  I  awake  I  am  still  with  Thee 69 

Wherefore 203 

Whom  but  Thee 56 

Will  of  God,  The 199 

Wish  of  To-day,  The 103 

With  God    .     .' 252 

Yet  a  Little  While 170 

Your  Harps,  ye  Trembling  Saints 127 


Enoer.  of  authors* 


Page 

Adams,  Mrs.  Sarah  Flower  (1805-1848) 38,  260 

Alford,  Henry,  (1810-1871) 108 

A.,  R.  E.  J 146 

Allingham,  William 22 

Ancient  Latin  Poem 186 

Anonymous  8,  13,  57,  75,  92,  123,  161,  166,  193,  202,  220,  228,  269 

Anstice,  Joseph,  1841 119 

Anton  Ulrich,  Duke  of  Brunswick,  1667 25,  68 

Bartrum 13 

Bathurst,  William  Hiley,  1831 66 

Baxter,  Richard  (1615-1691) 253 

Beattie,  William,  1866 183 

Beddome,  Benjamin  (1717— 1795) 32 

Bianowsky,  W.  von 196 

Bonar,  Horatius,  b.  1808 86 

Borthwick,  Jane,  1859 30,  31,  152 

Bowdler,  John  (1783-1815) 37 

Bronte,  Anne  (1820-1849) 207 

Brooks,  Charles  T.,  b.  1813 151 

Browning,  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Barrett  (1809-1861)    .     .    .  166 


Untitv  of  glutljors.  303 

Page 

Bryant,  William  Cuixen,  b.  1794 l6?>  2^6 

Byrom,  John  (1691-1763) 33 

C,  E I3° 

Cary,  Alice  (1820-1871) 2(38 

Chadwick,  John  White,  b.  1840 99 

Charles,  Mrs.  Elizabeth  (Rundell) 2*>* 

Christian  Intelligencer 9 

Cobbe,  Frances  Power,  1859 l  7 

CONDER,   JOSIAH    (1789-1855) 9° 

Corneille,  Pierre *      4* 

Cowper,  William  (1731-1800) l82>  2o5 

Crewdson,  Mrs.  Jane  (1809-1863) 126,170 

60 
Davis,  Thomas,  1864 

Deck,  James  George,  1843 *  4 

Dessler,  Wolfgang  Christoph  (1660-1722) So 

De  Vere,  Aubrey,  b.  1814 x99 

Doddridge,  Philip  (1702-1751) 73 

Drewes,  1797 5 

Dublin  University  Magazine Ib5 

E.,  B.  E ^ 

ELIA 17l 

Ellerton,  John,  1867 272 

Elliott,  Charlotte  (1789-1871)    16,  31,  l87>  212,  221,  227,  245, 

246,  249,  250,  254 

Englishwoman's  Journal 27 

Faber,  Frederick  William  (1815-1863)     .     157.  ^  *99.  25r 

Family  Treasury 10J 

Fletcher,  Lucy I3$ 

Fletcher,  Phineas  (1 584-1650) 2I 


304  Xirtrej:  of  authors. 

Page 
Fouque,  Friedrich  Heinrich  Karl,  De  la  Mothe  (1777- 

l843) 273 

Francke,  A.  H.  (1663-1727) I44 

Fraser's  Magazine 200 

Frothingham,  Nathaniel  Langdon  (i 793-1870)    149,  150,  174, 

229 
Furness,  William  Henry,  b.  1802 224 

Gedicke,  L I24 

Gellert,  Christian  Furchtegott  (1715-1769)    ....     171 
Gerhardt,  Paul  (1606-1676)  ....      14,  77,  79,  82,  131,  136 

German,  From  the ^  2I0 

Greg,  Samuel,  1804-1876 2g5 

Gibbons,  Thomas  (1720-1785) I7 

Greenwell,  Dora I34>  264j  273,  275 

Guyon,  Madame  Jeanne  Marie  Bouviere  de  la  Mothe 

(1648-1717) 240,241,243 

Hagenbach,  Charles  Rudolph n4 

Haweis,  Thomas,  1792 x3 

Hedge,  Frederic  Henry,  &  1805 12 

Hemans,  Mrs.  Felicia  Dorothea  (i 793-1835)    ....    256 

PIerbert,  George  (1 593-1 632) 54,  94,  133 

Holmes,  Oliver  Wendell,  b.  1809 m 

Hopps,  John  Page j52 

Howells,  William  Dean gg 

Hymns  Ancient  and  Modern I7^ 

Hymns  from  the  Land  of  Luther 3I 

Hymns  of  the  Church  Militant 235 

Hymns  of  the  Spirit 15,49,96,256 

Independent I0C. 

Irons,  William  Joseph,  1853 82 


Xfftep  of  autfjora-  305 

Page 

J.,  R 285 

J.,  W.  M.  L 174 

Jebb,  John,  Bishop  of  Limerick  (1775-1833) 231 

Johnson,  Samuel,  b.  1822 45 

Josephsen,  Pastor 218 

Keble,  John  (1792-1S66) 173,  212 

Kimball,  Harriet  MacEwen 74,  155 

Lampertus,  1625 93 

Lange 130 

Liebich 236 

Linton,  William  J 202 

Lippincott's  Magazine 185 

Longfellow,  Samuel,  £.1819 24,  121 

Lyra  Catholica 50 

Lyte,  Henry  Francis  (1793-1847) 100,267 

M.,  E 203 

Mardley,  John,  1562 19 

Miles,  Mrs.  Sarah  Elizabeth,  1807-1877 7,  11 

Milton,  John  (1608-1674) 148 

Monsell,  John  Samuel  Beyvley,  £.1811 262 

Montgomery,  James  (1771-1854) 40,  141 

Moravian 53 

MOwes,  Heinrich,  1832 225 

Neale,  John  Mason  (1S18-1866) 255 

Xir.MARCK,  George,  1653 153 

Neumister 191 

Newman,  John  Henry,  b.  1S01 129,  244 

Newton,  Adelaide  Leaper,  1S24-1854 20S 

Newton,  John  (1 725-1807) 113 

20 


306  Xutoj;  Of  mutl)QV8. 


Norton,  Andrews  (i 786-1853) 
Norris,  John,  1657-1711      .    . 


Old  Tract. 


Page 

154 

221 

l62 


Persian  Poet oQ 

^  262 

Procter,  Adelaide  Anne  (1825-1864) 1,  72,  190 

Psalter  In  English  Verse .1*2 

PUCHTA,    HEINRICH '        f„ 

Quarles,  John  (1624-1665) 45 

R-.A.G.  .  .  v ls6>l6s 

Kichter,  Christian  Friedrich  (1676-1711) 204 

Rodigast,  Samuel  (1649-1708) .'    .'  14c 

Roscoe,  Jane  Elizabeth  (1797-1853) ,  2g 

Rosenroth,  Christian  Knorr  von  (1636-1689)  .  67 

R6THE,   JOHANN   ANDREAS    (1688-I758)        ....  JAM 

Ryland,  John  (1753-1825) .    .    .    .    200 

Sachse,  Carl  Friedrich  Heinrich  (1 785-1860)      ...    291 

St.  Joseph  of  the  Studium,  9th  Century '290 

Sandys,  George  (1577-1643) 2~ 

Saxby,  Mrs.  Jane  Euphemia,  b.  1811      .     .     122,  231," 238,  261 

SCHEFFLER,   JOHANN    (ANGELUS    SlLESIUS)    (1624-1677)   '.  rg 

Schroder,  Johann  Heinrich,  1696  .     .     .  2~ 

Scudder,  Eliza 56,  70,  ii 8,  270/278,  280 

Sears,  Edmund  Hamilton,  1810-1876 214 

Shipton,  Anna,  1869 .'.'.',  214 

Spencer,  Carl .     .    .  ^g 

Spirit  of  the  Psalms [  106  120 

Steele,  Anne  (1716-1778) '  26 

Stephen  the  Sabaite,  a.  d.  794     ...         .'    .'    [    '    ]    l;g 


Intrcp  of  &utf)or$u  307 

Pack 

Stowe,  Mrs.  Harriet  Beecher,  b.  1812 34,  69 

Sturm,  Julius 222 

Sutton,  Henry  Septimus,  1854 20,  112 

T.,  M.  E 147 

Tate  and  Brady,  1703 46 

Taylor,  Emily  (1795-1872) 258 

Tersteegen,  Gerhard  (1697-1769)  .  .  44,  47,  51,  62,  63,  178 
Toplady,  Augustus  Montague  (1740-1778)  .  .  127,  138,  210 
Trench,  Richard  Chenevix,  b.  1807 97,  161 

Upham,  Thomas  Cogswell  (1 799-1872) 184,  195 

Vitalis 239 

Voices  of  Comfort 279 

Waring,  Anne  L^etitia,  1850     ....     85,  91,  101,  no,  233 

Warner,  Anna  B 223 

Watts,  Isaac  (1674-1748) 40 

Wesley,  Charles  (1708-1788)     35,  36,  39,  42,  43,  52,  55,  58,  61, 

76,  95,  104,  139,  158,  172,  205,  226,  248 

Whittier,  John  Greenleaf,  b.  1808  .    .  88,  103,  116,  169,  194 

Williams,  Isaac  (1802-1865) 65,  88 

Williams,  Sarah,  d.  1868 252 

Williams,  Sarah  Johanna  (1805-1841) 140 

Wilson,  Mrs.  Caroline  (Fry)  (1787-1846) 216 

Winkler,  1713 160 

Wordsworth,  William  (1770-1850) 159 

Ziiin,  Joiiann  Friedrich,  1682 1S0 


Enoej:   of  JTtrst   Lfae*. 


Page 

Abide  with  me  !  fast  falls  the  eventide 267 

Again  the  orient  light  is  shining 227 

Ah,  well  !  she  had  her  will 279 

A  little  bird  I  am 241 

And  is  there  nothing  to  be  done 249 

And  shall  I  sit  alone 32 

And  wilt  Thou  now  forsake  me,  Lord 220 

Art  thou  weary,  art  thou  languid 179 

As  God  leads  me,  will  I  go 124 

As,  panting  in  the  sultry  beams 37 

As  pants  the  hart  for  cooling  streams 46 

As  Thou  wilt,  my  God  !  I  ever  say 191 

At  noontide  came  a  voice,  "Thou  must  away  " 273 

Away,  my  needless  fears 139 

Beneath  Thine  hammer,  Lord,  I  lie 12 

Be  still,  my  soul  ! — the  Lord  is  on  thy  side 31 

Be  thou  content  ;  be  still  before 82 

Brother,  the  angels  say 256 

Come  forth,  come  on,  with  solemn  song 291 

Come,  let  us  join  our  friends  above 226 


Intrtp  of  iFtrst  Hintn.  309 

Page 

Come,  O  ye  sinners,  to  the  Lord 104 

Cometh  sunshine  after  rain 79 

Commit  Thou  all  Thy  griefs 136 

Count  each  affliction,  whether  light  or  grave 199 

Day  by  day  the  manna  fell 90 

Dayspring  of  eternity 67 

Dear  refuge  of  my  weary  soul 26 

Die  to  thy  root,  sweet  flower 134 

Do  I  not  trust  in  Thee.  O  Lord 254 

Earth,  with  its  dark  and  dreadful  ills 268 

Farewell !  since  never  more  for  thee 285 

Father,  before  Thy  footstool  kneeling 8 

Father,  help  conquer 27 

Father,  I  know  that  all  my  life 101 

Father,  in  Thy  mysterious  presence  kneeling 45 

Father,  into  Thy  loving  hands 231 

Father  of  Love,  our  Guide  and  Friend 82 

Father  !  Thine  everlasting  grace 143 

Feeble,  helpless,  how  shall  I 224 

For  ever  with  the  Lord 141 

For  patience,  when  the  rough  winds  blow 174 

Forsake  me  not,  my  God  :  my  heart  is  sinking 221 

For  us — whatever's  undergone 166 

For  what  shall  I  praise  Thee,  my  God  and  my  King     .     .     .  216 

Fountain  of  Light  and  living  Breath 46 

From  past  regret  and  present  faithlessness 56 

From  the  depths  of  grief  and  fear 21 

Gentle  friends,  who  gather  here 2S0 

Give  me  a  heart  of  calm  repose 57 


310  Xattoj:  trfjFtrst  3Linzn. 

Page 

Give  rest,  O  God,  to  me 105 

God  draws  a  cloud  over  each  gleaming  morn 167 

God  knows  the  best 165 

God  liveth  ever 180 

God  of  my  life,  whose  gracious  power 95 

God  of  the  living,  in  whose  eyes 272 

God  sends  sometimes  a  stillness  in  our  life 135 

God's  right-hand  angel,  bright  and  calm 188 

God,  whom  I  as  Love  have  known 204 

Go  not  far  from  me,  O  my  Strength 233 

Good  Lord,  no  strength  I  have,  nor  need 252 

Grand  Dieu,  pour  ton  plaisir 240 

Have  ye  known  the  shadows  darken 214 

He  who  died  at  Azim  sends 282 

How  long,  O  Lord,  how  long 11 

How  many  blessed  groups  this  hour  are  bending      ....  256 

How  oft  a  gleam  of  glory  sent 161 

How  shalt  thou  bear  the  cross  that  now 176 

"  I  always  see  in  dreams,"  she  said 149 

I  ask  not  now  for  gold  to  gild 103 

I  dare  not  say  "  I  love  Thee,  Lord  " 238 

1  do  not  ask,  O  Lord,  that  life  may  be 190 

If  as  a  flower  doth  spread  and  die 54 

I  have  had  my  happy  days 171 

I  hoped  that  with  the  brave  and  strong 207 

I  know  not  if  or  dark  or  bright        108 

I  know  not  what  shall  befall  me 123 

I  lay  me  down  to  sleep 228 

I  lay  my  head  upon  Thy  Infinite  heart 13 

I  long  for  household  voices  gone 88 

I  look  to  Thee  in  every  need 121 


Kntrep  of  jFtrst  antes*  311 

Page 

I  made  a  posy,  while  the  day  ran  by 94 

I  mourn  no  more  my  vanished  years 116 

Infinite  God  !  on  Thee  I  rest 130 

In  Thee  I  place  my  trust 100 

In  the  mid  silence  of  the  voiceless  night 74 

In  trouble  for  my  sin  I  cried  to  God 22 

I  rest  beneath  the  Almighty's  shade 76 

I  say  to  thee,  —  do  thou  repeat 97 

Is  this  the  way,  my  Father  ?  —  'Tis,  my  child 193 

Is  thy  path  lonely  ?  fear  it  not,  for  He 166 

I  thank  Thee  for  the  loneliness 156 

It  is  Thy  hand,  my  God 164 

It  was  Thy  will,  my  Father 261 

I  want  the  spirit  of  power  within 58 

I  will  trust  again  His  love,  His  power 130 

I  wished  a  flowery  path  to  tread 212 

Just  as  God  leads  me,  I  would  go 93 

Late  on  me,  weeping,  did  this  whisper  fall 112 

Lead,  kindly  Light,  amid  the  encircling  gloom 129 

Leave  all  to  God 25 

Leave  God  to  order  all  thy  ways 153 

Let  whosoever  will,  inquire 270 

"  Lift  up  your  hearts  !  "     Yes,  I  will  lift 50 

Liv*«g  or  dying,  Lord,  I  would  be  Thine 260 

Long  have  I  viewed,  long  have  I  thought 221 

Lord,  a  whole  long  day  of  pain 217 

Lord,  for  the  erring  thought 9S 

Lord,  I  am  very  weak,  distrest 246 

Lord,  it  is  not  life  to  live 13S 

Lord,  with  Thy  love  my  soul  illume 60 

Love  for  all !  and  can  it  be 24 


312  Kntrep  of  jFfrst  ILintn. 

Page 

Midwinter  comes  to-morrow 202 

My  God  and  Father,  while  I  stray 187 

My  God,  forget  me  not 196 

My  God  !  I  thank  Thee  ;  may  no  thought 154 

My  God  !  lo  here  !  before  Thy  face 5 

My  God,  my  Strength,  my  Hope 36 

My  God,  whose  gracious  pity  I  may  claim  .     .          ....  208 

My  heart  is  resting,  O  my  God 91 

My  Shepherd  is  the  Lord  ;  I  know 132 

My  spirit  longeth  for  Thee 33 

My  times  are  in  Thy  hand 92 

My  will,  dear  Lord,  from  Thine  doth  run 174 

My  will  would  like  a  life  of  ease 223 

Musing  of  all  my  Father's  love 162 

Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee 38 

No  longer  doubt,  nor  fear,  nor  grieve 31 

Not  more  than  I  have  strength  to  bear 210 

Now  darkness  over  all  is  spread 218 

Now  it  belongs  not  to  my  care 253 

Now  slowly,  slowly  darkening 265 

O  comrade  bold  of  toil  and  pain 244 

O  Faithful  God  !  O  pitying  Heart 14 

O  Father,  hear 9 

O  Father  !   I  have  sinned,  I  have  done 20 

O  Father  !  let  me  bear  the  cross 184 

O  God,  most  merciful  and  true 43 

O  God  of  truth,  for  whom  alone  I  sigh 41 

O  God,  O  Spirit,  Light  of  all  that  live 62 

O  God  !  to  Thine  all-seeing  ken 150 

O  God,  Thou  art  my  God  alone 40 

O  God,  what  offering  shall  I  give 47 


ftwasj:  of  iFCrst  3Linta.  313 

Page 

Oh  !  blessed  life  of  service  and  of  love 288 

Oh  !  deem  not  they  are  blest  alone 167 

Oh,  draw  me,  Father,  after  Thee 53 

Oh  for  a  faith  that  will  not  shrink 66 

Oh  for  the  happy  days  gone  by 157 

Oh  !  for  the  peace  which  floweth  as  a  river 170 

Oh,  from  these  visions  dark  and  drear ,  .     .     .  13 

Oh,  how  safe,  how  happy  he 120 

Oh  let  him,  whose  sorrow 173 

Oh,  let  my  utter  helplessness       ...          39 

Oh  !  strange  it  seems  to  lie  at  anchor  here 247 

Oh!   this  is  blessing,  this  is  rest no 

O  Lord,  how  happy  is  the  time 80 

O  Lord  !  how  happy  should  we  be 119 

O  Lord,  I  grasp  Thy  hand      .     .          236 

O  Lord,  my  best  desire  fulfil 20S 

O  Lord  my  God,  do  Thou  Thy  holy  will 173 

O  Lord,  my  God,  the  way  is  rough  and  long 177 

O  Lord,  turn  not  Thy  face  away 19 

O  Love  Divine,  how  sweet  Thou  art 55 

O  Love  Divine,  of  all  that  is 99 

O  Love  Divine,  that  stooped  to  share in 

O  Love,  I  languish  at  Thy  stay 35 

O  my  God,  my  Father  !  hear 15 

Once  more  from  rest  I  rise  again 6S 

One  adequate  support 159 

On  Thee,  my  Health  in  sickness 248 

Open,  Lord,  my  inward  ear 61 

O  Speck  in  creation 1S6 

O  Thou,  by  long  experience  tried 243 

O  Thou,  from  whom  all  goodness  flows 18 

O  Thou  from  whom  all  mercy  springs 23 

O  Thou,  in  whom  the  weary  find 42 


314  Untttv  of  jFtrst  aines. 

Page 

O  Thou,  most  present  in  our  paths 214 

O  Thou,  to  whose  all-searching  sight 51 

O  Thou,  whose  all-enlivening  ray 231 

O  Thou  whose  bounty  fills  my  cup 126 

O  Thou  !  whose  gently  chastening  hand 203 

O  Thou  !  whose  wise,  paternal  Love 205 

Our  praise  Thou  need'st  not,  but  Thy  love 65 

Pain's  furnace-heat  within  me  quivers .  222 

Peace  !  be  still 198 

Peace,  troubled  soul  !  thou  need'st  not  fear 96 

Pilgrim  of  earth,  who  art  journeying  to  heaven 202 

Quiet  from  God  !  how  beautiful  to  keep 140 

Quiet,  Lord,  my  froward  heart 113 

Rest,  gentle  traveller,  on  life's  toilsome  way 276 

Rest,  weary  heart 31 

Safe  home,  safe  home  in  port 290 

Shall  I  not  sing  praise  to  Thee 77 

She  sat  within  Life's  Banquet  Hall  at  noon 275 

Since  thy  Father's  arm  sustains  thee 114 

"Soon  —  and  for  ever  " 262 

So  tired  !  —  I  fain  would  rest 147 

Sovereign  Ruler  of  the  skies 200 

Speechless  Sorrow  sat  with  me 155 

Sweet  is  the  solace  of  Thy  love 85 

Sweet  Patience,  come 235 

Still,  still  with»Thee,  when  purple  morning  breaketh     ...  69 

That  mystic  word  of  Thine,  O  sovereign  Lord 34 

The  child  leans  on  its  parent's  breast 88 


HvCatv  of  jFtrst  ILimn.  315 

Page 

The  day  is  done 269 

The  day  is  done  ;   the  weary  day  of  thought  and  toil  is  past  .  70 

The  day  is  ended.     Ere  I  sink  to  sleep 74 

The  deaf  man  sees  the  prison  wall 151 

Thee  will  I  love,  my  Strength,  my  Tower 59 

The  graves  grow  thicker,  and  life's  ways  more  bare      .     .     .  146 

The. shadows  of  the  evening  hours 71 

They  who  on  the  Lord  rely 106 

This  gracious  promise,  Lord,  fulfil 245 

Thou  All-sufficient  One 63 

Thou  art  with  me,  O  my  Father 122 

Thou  Grace  Divine,  encircling  all 118 

Thou  hidden  love  of  God  !  whose  height 44 

Thou,  infinite  in  love 7 

Thou  knowest,  Lord,  the  weariness  and  sorrow 30 

Thou  sweet,  beloved  Will  of  God 178 

Thou  very  present  Aid 172 

Thou  !  who  art  touched  with  feeling  of  our  woes      ....  16 

Thus  saith  the  Lord  :  "  Thy  clays  of  health  are  over"  .     .     .  225 

Thy  servants  militant  below 255 

Thy  way,  not  mine,  O  Lord 86 

Thy  will  be  done  !  I  will  not  fear 29 

Tis  all  the  same  to  me 195 

To  do  or  not  to  do  ;  to  have 758 

To  pass  through  life  beloved  as  few  are  loved 278 

To  Thee  my  God,  whose  presence  fills 17 

To  the  hills  I  lift  mine  eyes 52 

To  think  of  Thee  is  almost  prayer 251 

To  weary  hearts,  to  mourning  homes 169 

Tremble  not,  though  darkly  gather 152 

Triajs  must  and  will  befall 1S2 

Trouble  ?  dear  friend,  I  know  her  not.     God  sent     ....  185 

'Twas  in  the  watches  of  the  night 40 


316  Kutrep  of  jFttst  nines* 

Page 

Upon  the  hills  the  wind  is  sharp  and  cold 200 

We  ask  not,  Father,  the  repose 49 

We  praise  Thee  oft  for  hours  of  bliss 162 

We  see  not,  know  not  ;  all  our  way 194 

Whate'er  my  God  ordains  is  right 145 

What  pleases  God,  O  pious  soul 131 

What  though  downy  slumbers  flee 73 

What  weight  is  this  which  presses  on  my  soul 185 

What  within  me  and  without 144 

When  all  outward  comfort  flies 250 

When  clouds  are  hovering  o'er  us 183 

When  death  is  drawing  near 273 

When  evening  choirs  the  praises  hymned 107 

When  God  at  first  made  man 133 

When  I  am  weak,  I'm  strong 229 

When  I  consider  how  my  light  is  spent 148 

When  I  have  said  my  quiet  say 264 

When  languor  and  disease  invade 210 

When  obstacles  and  trials  seem 199 

When  summer  suns  their  radiance  fling 258 

When  thou  hast  thanked  thy  God  for  every  blessing  sent      .  161 

Wrho  is  the  Angel  that  cometh 1 

Why  should  I  not  meet  gladly  all  my  pain 239 

Wish  not,  dear  friends,  my  pain  away 212 

Within  this  lowly  grave  a  Conqueror  lies 286 

Yea,  my  spirit  fain  would  sink 160 

Your  harps,  ye  trembling  saints 127 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publications. 


OUIET    HOURS. 

A     COLLECTION    OF   POEMS,   MEDITATIVE 
AND    RELIGIOUS. 


"  Under  this  modest  title  we  have  here  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  of  the  best 
short  poems  in  the  language.  The  compiler,  whoever  she  is,  has  a  rare  taste,  and 
also,  what  is  equally  valuable,  good  judgment.  The  poems  are  on  all  subjects. 
This  dainty  little  volume  is  just  the  book  for  a  Christmas  or  New  Year's  gift." 
—  Peterson's  Magazine. 

u  Such  a  book  as  this  seems  to  us  much  better  adapted  than  any  formal  book 
of  devotion  to  beget  a  calm  and  prayerful  spirit  in  the  reader.  It  will  no  doubt 
become  a  dear  companion  to  many  earnestly  religious  people."  —  Christian 
Register. 

" '  Quiet  Hours'  is  the  appropriate  title  which  some  unnamed  compiler  has  given 
to  a  collection  of  musings  of  many  writers  —  a  nosegay  made  up  of  some  slighter, 
choicer,  and  more  delicate  flowers  from  the  garden  of  the  poets.  Emerson, 
Chadwick,  Higginson,  Arnold,  Whittier,  and  Clough,  are  represented,  as  well  as 
Coleridge,  Browning,  Wordsworth,  and  Tennyson  ;  and  the  selections  widely 
vary  in  character,  ranging  from  such  as  relate  to  the  moods  and  aspects  of  na- 
ture, to  voices  of  the  soul  when  most  deeply  stirred."  —  Congregationalist. 


i8mo,  cloth,  red  edges.      Price  $1.00.     Sold  by  all  Book- 
sellers.    Mailed,  postpaid,  by  the  Publishers, 

ROBERTS    BROTHERS, 

Boston. 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers    Publications. 


SUNSHINE  IN  THE  SOUL. 


POEMS  SELECTED   BY    THE    EDITOR 
OF  "QUIET  HOURS." 


"Another  delicate  little  morceau  of  a  book.  Seemly  in  its  outer  garb,  but 
incomparably  more  beautiful  within.  A  cunningly  selected  group,  by  the  hand  oi 
a  skilful  arranger  of  poems,  from  the  choicest  writers.  An  exquisite  and  precious 
little  book,  that  will  doubtless  let  God's  sunshine  into  many  a  sad  soul."  —  Chris- 
tian  Intelligencer. 

" '  Sunshine  in  the  Soul  '  is  a  collection,  in  a  bijou  volume,  of  a  number  of 
the  most  beautiful,  tender,  uplifting,  and  satisfying  verses  of  a  religious  character 
which  exist  in  our  language  There  is  abundance  of  help  and  comfort  in  this  little 
volume,  and  many  a  heart  will  be  made  glad  in  its  possession."  —  Boston 
Traveller. 

11  Designed,  as  its  title  indicates,  to  cheer  and  elevate,  and  to  be  a  bright  com- 
panion for  the  reader.  It  is  pleasant  to  find  such  a  book  of  religious  verse, 
that  has  nothing  austere  or  gloomy  in  its  pages,  nothing  that  seems  to  darken 
heaven  to  man." — Portland  Press. 


i8mo,    cloth,   red  edges.       Price   50  cents.      Sold  by  all 
Booksellers.     Mailed,  postpaid,  by  the  Publishers, 


ROBERTS    BROTHERS, 

Boston. 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers    Publications. 


THE    "WISDOM    SERIES." 

EDITED   BY  THE  EDITOR   OF  "QUIET 
HOURS"   AND   "SURSUM  COR  DA." 

Selections    from    the    Imitation   of    Christ.      By 
Thomas  a  Kempis. 

Selections   from   the   Thoughts   of    Marcus    Au- 
relius  Antoninus. 

"These  little  volumes,  small  enough  for  the  pocket,  and  neat  enough  for  the 
cabinet  or  parlor-table,  are  admirably  selected  from  two  of  the  books  which  can 
never  grow  old,  nor  lose  their  charm  to  devout  and  meditative  minds.  They  may 
well  lead  the  "  Wisdom  Series."  The  editor  who  gave  us  the  excellent  volume 
of  selected  poems  called  Quiet  Hours,  and  who  has  just  prepared  another  and 
similar  book,  has  done  the  public  a  service  by  here  putting  together  in  compact 
form  the  best  of  the  thoughts  and  aspirations  which  this  generation  is  too  little 
disposed  to  look  for  amidst  the  less  pregnant  and  valuable  matter  with  which  they 
are  mingled  in  the  full  editions.  A  brief,  but  compact  and  readable  memoir  pre- 
faces each  volume."  —  Unitarian  Review- 

Sunshine  in  the  Soul.     Poems  selected  by  the  Edi- 
tor of  "  Quiet  Hours." 

Selections  from  Epictetus. 


i8mo,  cloth,  red  edges.     F'rice  50  cents   each.      Sold  by 
all  Booksellers.     Mailed,  postpaid,  by  the  Publishers, 

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Boston. 


